Chapter 1: Mirror of the Unknown
Alex Carter stared into the mirror, but the face staring back wasn’t his. Soft curves replaced sharp angles, long chestnut hair spilled over shoulders that weren’t broad anymore, and eyes—still his stormy gray—blinked from a face that was undeniably, breathtakingly feminine. He—no, she—ran a trembling hand over the smooth skin of her cheek, down to a neck that felt alien, and lower still, to a chest that made her breath hitch. ‘What the hell is this?’ she muttered, voice a sultry alto that sent a shiver down her own spine.
She was Sandra now, at least until she figured out what cosmic fuckery had landed her in this body. The apartment was the same, the coffee on the counter still bitter and black, but everything else? A goddamn riddle. Her phone buzzed, and she snatched it up, seeing a text from Riley, her best friend and occasional pain in the ass. *Hey, hot stuff, you still on for drinks tonight? Need to see that killer smile.*
Sandra smirked, typing back with unfamiliar fingers. *Oh, I’ve got a smile for you, alright. But you might not recognize it.*
Riley’s response was instant. *Cryptic much? I like it. See you at 8, don’t keep me waiting, babe.*
Babe. The word hit like a spark, igniting something in Sandra’s core she wasn’t ready to name. She tossed the phone down and paced, the sway of her hips an unasked-for distraction. Every step felt like a lesson in seduction she hadn’t signed up for. But damn, if it didn’t feel… powerful. She caught her reflection again, lips curling into a wicked grin. ‘Alright, universe,’ she said aloud, ‘let’s play this game.’
Eight o’clock rolled around, and Sandra strutted into the dimly lit bar, heels clicking with a confidence she was faking but owning. Riley was already there, leaning against the bar, all sharp jawline and cocky smirk. His eyes widened as they landed on her, drinking in the tight black dress she’d found in her closet—a dress Alex would’ve never touched, but Sandra? She wore it like a weapon.
‘Holy shit, Sandra,’ Riley drawled, pushing off the bar to close the distance. ‘You trying to kill me tonight or what?’
She arched a brow, voice dripping with challenge. ‘If I were, you’d be begging for it by now. Buy me a drink, or are you just gonna stand there gawking?’
He laughed, low and rough, signaling the bartender. ‘Oh, I’m gawking, alright. But I’m also buying. Whiskey, neat, for the lady who’s clearly out to ruin me.’
They clinked glasses, the burn of the liquor matching the heat building in Sandra’s chest. Riley’s gaze lingered, bold and unapologetic, tracing the line of her neck, the curve of her waist. ‘You’ve got a fire in you tonight,’ he said, leaning closer, his breath warm against her ear. ‘What’s got you so… charged?’
Sandra tilted her head, lips brushing just shy of his jaw as she whispered, ‘Maybe I’m just figuring out what I want. And right now, I want to see if you can keep up.’
His hand found her thigh under the bar, fingers firm, testing. ‘Careful, sweetheart,’ he growled, voice thick with want. ‘I don’t play nice when I’m teased.’
‘Good,’ she shot back, her own hand sliding up his arm, nails grazing just enough to make him tense. ‘I’m not looking for nice. I’m looking for trouble.’
The air between them crackled, electric and hungry. Sandra’s pulse raced, her body responding in ways Alex never had—wet heat pooling, a desperate ache she couldn’t ignore. Riley’s eyes darkened, reading her like an open book, and she knew they were seconds from crossing a line. His grip tightened, pulling her closer, and she felt the hard press of him against her hip, a promise of what was coming. ‘Your place or mine?’ he rasped, already halfway to losing control.
Sandra’s smirk was pure sin. ‘Mine. Let’s see if you can handle me.’
They stumbled out of the bar, the night air doing nothing to cool the fire between them. Her apartment door barely shut before his hands were on her, rough and urgent, and she matched him, pushing back, taking as much as she gave. Clothes hit the floor, and as his mouth found her neck, her gasp was raw, dripping with need. This was no game anymore—it was a collision, and she was ready to burn.
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