She could have closed the door. She could have turned away and pretended none of it had happened. But when his shadow fell across her threshold, her hand lingered on the knob longer than it should have. She let him in, not because it was right, but because it was wrong. And the wrongness of it filled her chest with a sweetness that made her lips tremble.
As he stepped inside, the air between them grew thicker. Every move felt charged, every glance a silent confession. She told herself it was only curiosity, just one step across the line—but the truth pulsed deeper. She wanted him because she wasn’t supposed to. The forbidden has a taste unlike anything else, one that lingers even before the first kiss. That sweetness wasn’t imagined; it was carved from the thrill of knowing she was breaking rules.
By the time the door shut behind him, she no longer cared about right or wrong. All that mattered was the way his presence filled the room, the way her body leaned into temptation without hesitation. Forbidden things always feel sweeter, and she was already addicted before she even touched him. Letting him in wasn’t an accident—it was a choice she would make again and again.