Jeff starts dinner

Jeff heads into the small kitchen and starts pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator. “Alright, I’m thinking pasta, garlic bread, and whatever else we can find in here,” he says, opening cabinets. “Nothing fancy, but it’ll do.”

Chase wanders over to help, while Doug stays at the table with his laptop open. Ariana takes a seat nearby, watching Jeff move around the kitchen. I stay where I am, trying to act completely normal.

Every few minutes, I catch Ariana looking in my direction. Ariana's gaze flicked to me again. I remembered the way she'd looked spread out on that bed, skirt hiked up, panties shoved aside, my cock buried deep inside her while my phone rang with Sarah's calls. Jeff kept cooking, completely unaware of the way Ariana and I kept stealing glances across the tiny kitchen. Every look carried the weight of that night—the way she'd moaned when I thrust into her, the way she'd come first, clenching around my cock before I pulled out and painted her stomach.

She brushed past me to grab silverware and her hip grazed mine. The contact sent a jolt straight to my dick. I wondered if she was thinking about it too—how I'd fucked her like I was trying to forget everything, how she'd let me use her body to escape my own guilt.

"Dinner's almost ready," Jeff announced.

Ariana smiled at him, then looked at me one more time. The message was clear in her eyes: This isn't over.