Tantrum!

The forbidden thrill of it, knowing what she hid, what she'd spilled last night, only heightened the tension coiling in my core.

'Hey, easy,' I said softly, reaching out to gently take the wine glass from her hand before she could spill more or hurt herself. My fingers brushed hers, warm and soft, sending a spark up my arm that I tried to ignore.

She resisted for a second, her grip tight, but then let go, her eyes dropping to our joined hands before flicking back up, stormy and searching. I set the glass aside and shifted closer, my thigh pressing against hers again, the contact grounding us both.

'I'm not like them, Georgia. I'm just... trying to do the right thing. You're emotional right now, and I get it. Rough day, wine not helping. Let's cool it down, okay? Relax tonight.'

She huffed, pulling her hand away but not scooting back, her body heat still radiating toward me like a magnet. 'Cool down? That's easy for you to say. You're 27, Markus—old enough to know better, but still acting like a kid afraid of getting caught.'

Her voice softened a bit, the tantrum ebbing into a sulk, but she leaned into my side slightly, her shoulder brushing my arm. The scent of her—floral shampoo mixed with the musky hint of her arousal—filled my senses, making my cock throb with need.

I could see the pulse in her neck, feel the emotional intimacy wrapping around us, her vulnerability drawing me in even as guilt gnawed at the edges.