The city never slept, and neither could Jake. Sprawled in the cluttered, dimly lit bedroom of Marissa’s apartment, he lay wide awake, the faint glow of neon lights seeping through a cracked blind casting jagged shadows across the room. The air was thick with the scent of last night’s wine and the lingering heat of their unexpected passion. Beside him, Marissa was a vision of untamed chaos, sprawled across the bed, one leg dangling off the edge, snoring softly with the kind of abandon that only came from sheer exhaustion—or complete satisfaction. Her dark hair fanned out across the pillow, and even in sleep, her sharp features held an edge of ferocity that made Jake’s stomach twist in knots.
*What the hell have I done?* His mind raced, replaying the night in vivid, sweaty detail. The bar. The banter. The way Marissa’s piercing green eyes had locked onto his, daring him to keep up with her razor-sharp wit. And then, somehow, they’d ended up here, tangled in sheets and bad decisions. She wasn’t just any woman—she was his boss’s ex. The ex. The one who’d walked out on a six-figure corporate shark with a middle finger and a smirk, leaving behind a trail of whispered legends at the office. If word got out, Jake was done. Fired. Blacklisted. Probably buried under a pile of HR paperwork so thick he’d suffocate.
He turned his head, stealing a glance at her. Even in sleep, Marissa looked like she could snap him in half with a single word. Her full lips were parted slightly, her chest rising and falling with each soft breath, and damn if she wasn’t the most intimidatingly beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He had to get out. Now. Before she woke up and demanded answers—or worse, decided to toy with him like a cat with a cornered mouse.
Carefully, he slid one leg out from under the tangled sheets, holding his breath as the mattress creaked under his weight. The sound seemed deafening in the quiet room, and he froze, eyes darting to Marissa. She didn’t stir. Her arm flopped over to where he’d just been, fingers brushing the empty space, and she mumbled something incoherent—a low, throaty murmur that sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. But her eyes stayed closed. Thank God.
Heart pounding like a drumline, Jake eased himself fully off the bed, tiptoeing across the room in the dim light. His bare foot caught on something sharp, and he bit back a curse as pain shot through his toe. A stray heel—black, lethal, and probably Marissa’s weapon of choice. “Of course,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing his foot. “Even her shoes are out to get me.”
He scanned the room for his clothes, his pulse racing with every second he spent in this minefield of a bedroom. His shirt was draped over a chair, crumpled and smelling faintly of her perfume. He snatched it up, pulling it over his head with shaky hands. But his pants? Nowhere in sight. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck as he imagined himself sprinting down the street half-naked, Marissa’s mocking laughter echoing behind him.
“Come on, you idiot,” he hissed to himself, crouching low to peer under the bed. “This is what you get for letting your libido call the shots. Should’ve stayed home with a beer and a bad movie. But nooo, you had to play with fire. And now you’re gonna get burned. Or fired. Or both.”
A glint of fabric caught his eye—his pants, wedged under the bed frame. Relief flooded through him, but as he reached for them, his elbow bumped the nightstand. A glass of water teetered, then toppled with a loud clatter, spilling across the wood and onto the floor. The sound echoed like a gunshot, and Jake’s heart stopped. He dove behind the chair, holding his breath like a kid caught sneaking cookies, his eyes glued to Marissa.
She stirred, groaning low in her throat, her brow furrowing as if she could sense his stupidity even in her sleep. “Damn clumsy idiots,” she muttered, her voice thick with irritation, before rolling over and going quiet again. Jake exhaled shakily, his hands trembling as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Close one, genius,” he whispered to himself. “Real smooth.”
Scrambling out from behind the chair, he grabbed his pants, yanking them on with such haste he nearly tripped over his own feet. The zipper snagged, and he cursed under his breath, fumbling with it as he crept toward the bedroom door. Every floorboard seemed to creak underfoot, each sound a betrayal in the silent apartment. He winced with every step, his nerves frayed to the breaking point.
Finally, he reached the door, his hand closing around the knob. He turned it with agonizing slowness, praying it wouldn’t squeak as he inched it open. The hallway beyond was dark, a beacon of freedom just within reach. He was almost there, almost home free—
“Jake?”
Marissa’s voice cut through the darkness, sharp and commanding, stopping him dead in his tracks. It wasn’t a question—it was a summons, laced with a dangerous edge that made his blood run cold. He turned slowly, his heart hammering against his ribs, to find her sitting up in bed, the sheets pooled around her waist. Her green eyes glinted in the dim light, pinning him in place like a predator sizing up prey.
“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” she drawled, her voice low and smoky, but with a bite that could draw blood. She tilted her head, a smirk curling her lips as she leaned back against the headboard, utterly unselfconscious in her nakedness. “Because it looks to me like you’re trying to pull a disappearing act. And I don’t take kindly to men who sneak out without saying goodbye.”
Jake swallowed hard, his mouth dry as sandpaper. “I, uh—I was just—bathroom,” he stammered, gesturing vaguely toward the hallway. “Didn’t want to wake you. You looked… peaceful.”
“Peaceful?” She arched a brow, her smirk widening into something downright wicked. “Oh, honey, you don’t know the half of how I look when I’m peaceful. Or when I’m pissed. Care to find out?”
He forced a laugh, but it came out more like a nervous wheeze. “No, no, I’m good. I just figured, you know, it’s late, and—”
“Late?” she interrupted, her tone dripping with mock surprise. “Funny, I don’t recall setting a curfew for you, Jake. Or did you think I’d just let you slip out after last night? Because I’ve got news for you—I don’t do one-and-done. Not with a performance like yours.”
His face burned, and he shifted uncomfortably, caught between the door and the weight of her gaze. “Marissa, I didn’t mean to—look, last night was… incredible. But I’m not sure I’m the guy for, uh, whatever this is.”
She laughed, a sharp, throaty sound that sent a jolt straight through him. “Oh, Jake. You don’t get to decide what this is. I do. And right now, I’m deciding you’re not going anywhere until we’ve had a little chat. So close that door, come back to bed, and let’s talk about how you thought you could sneak out on *me*.” Her eyes flashed with challenge, daring him to defy her.
Jake hesitated, his hand still on the knob, torn between the urge to bolt and the magnetic pull of her presence. But the way she looked at him—commanding, unyielding, with a promise of trouble he couldn’t resist—told him he wasn’t getting out of this so easily. With a resigned sigh, he pushed the door shut, the click sounding like the final nail in his coffin.
“Fine,” he muttered, turning back to face her. “But just so you know, I’m blaming you if I get fired over this.”
Marissa’s grin was pure mischief as she patted the empty space beside her. “Oh, darling, if you’re worried about getting fired, you’ve got bigger problems. Like keeping up with me. Now, get over here before I drag you back myself.”
And just like that, Jake knew he was in way over his head.
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