Late Night Vibes

Chapter 1: Unexpected Knock

The candles flicker in my tiny apartment, casting a warm, honeyed glow over the room. I’m sprawled on the couch, bonnet on, humming one of my sad-girl tracks under my breath, when my phone buzzes like it’s got a secret to spill. Soul’s name lights up the screen, and my heart does a little flip. This man never texts this late unless he’s up to no good.

**Soulo:** 'You up, sweetheart?'

I smirk, rolling my eyes. Sweetheart? Oh, he’s on one tonight. I type back, keeping it cool, though my fingers are already trembling.

**Me:** 'Yeah, why?'

No text back. Instead, the phone rings, and his voice pours through—low, raspy, like he’s been sipping something strong or smoking something smooth. 'Where you at?'

'I’m home… why you talkin’ like that?' I shoot back, sitting up straighter, my voice sharper than I mean it to be.

He chuckles, that deep, hood laugh that always gets me. 'Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ma slide.'

I blink. Slide where? 'Wait, what—' But he hangs up before I can even get the words out. My heart’s pounding like I just ran a lap. Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock at my door. I damn near trip over my own feet getting to the peephole. There he is—Soul, hoodie up, eyes red and heavy, leaning on my doorframe like he owns the place.

I crack the door open, peeking out like I’ve got some sense left. He looks me up and down, slow and bold, like he’s already undressing me with his eyes. 'Ain’t nobody else here, right?' he mumbles, stepping inside before I can answer.

'N-No… I’m by myself,' I stammer, hating how my voice shakes.

'Aight, good.' He closes the door behind him and locks it with a deliberate click. My knees wobble. He shrugs off his hoodie, and the scent of his cologne—mixed with a hint of trouble—hits me like a wave. He walks right up to me, hands in his pockets, swaying just enough to let me know he’s feeling something, but not sloppy. Never sloppy.

'You miss me?' he asks, tilting his head with that cocky little smirk, like he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, trying to play it off, though my stomach’s doing cartwheels. 'You drunk?'

'Lil bit. Lil somethin’ else too. But I’m good.' Then he lifts my chin with one finger, his touch light but commanding. 'You look too damn pretty to be alone.'

I swear I almost melt right there. My breath catches, but I’m not about to let him see me fold. 'Boy, you don’t even call first? Just show up like I’m s’posed to be ready for you?' I snap, crossing my arms, though my voice is more playful than pissed.

He grins, stepping past me like he owns the damn place, heading straight for my couch. He sits back, legs spread wide, patting the cushion next to him. 'C’mere, Mikki. Stop actin’ scary.'

I raise a brow, standing my ground for a second, but the way his eyes are locked on me—dark, hungry, daring me to say no—has my resolve crumbling. I walk over, slow, hips swaying just a little more than necessary, and sit beside him. Not too close, though. Not yet.

'You always this bold, or is it just the liquor talkin’?' I tease, tucking a curl behind my ear, trying to keep my cool while my pulse races.

Soul leans in, his breath warm against my neck as he murmurs, 'Ain’t the liquor, sweetheart. It’s you. Got me all kinds of fucked up, and you know it.'

My skin prickles at his words, heat pooling low in my belly. I turn to face him, our lips inches apart, and I can see the fire in his gaze. 'Oh, so I’m the problem now?' I quip, my voice dripping with sass, though I’m already leaning closer.

'You been the problem,' he growls, his hand sliding to my thigh, firm and possessive. 'Hidin’ behind them curls, actin’ shy, when we both know you got a mouth on you. I’m tryna see what else that mouth can do.'

I laugh, sharp and quick, but it’s cut off as he pulls me closer, his grip tightening. My breath hitches, and I can feel the tension building, electric and undeniable. Our lips are so close now, I can almost taste him. I’m not backing down, though. Not tonight. 'Keep talkin’, Soul. I dare you,' I whisper, my voice low and challenging, as my hand slides up his chest, feeling the heat of him through his shirt.

His smirk widens, and in one swift move, he’s got me pinned against the couch, his body hovering over mine, all hard lines and raw energy. 'Oh, I’ma do more than talk, pretty girl,' he promises, his voice a dangerous purr, as his lips crash into mine, hungry and unrelenting.