KEIFER'S POV — WHEN TEMPTATION LEANS TOO CLOSE
I was halfway through making a coffee when I heard it.
Soft footsteps.
Uneven.
Then laughter—quiet at first, then blooming, warm and unguarded.
I turned.
Jay stood at the doorway of the living room, barefoot now, horns gone, hair a mess of soft waves falling into her face. My hoodie hung off one shoulder like it belonged there. Like she'd claimed it.
She blinked at me.
Then smiled.
Not sharp. Not strategic.
Drunk.
"Why are you sitting like you're brooding in a movie?" she asked, words slightly slurred, amused with herself.
I sat back on the couch, elbows on my knees. "Why are you awake?"
She giggled—actually giggled—and walked toward me, unsteady but determined.
"Because," she said, pointing at me like she'd solved something important, "you forgot to say goodnight."
I exhaled through my nose. "Jay—"
She stopped right in front of me.
Too close.
The room smelled faintly of leather, perfume, and alcohol. Her eyes were glossy, pupils blown, confidence loose and careless in a way that made my chest tighten.
She tilted her head, studying me like I was something curious. Interesting.
"Wow," she murmured. "You're… very symmetrical."
I blinked. "That's not a compliment."
"It absolutely is." She leaned forward slightly, hands braced on my knees for balance. "You look even better when you're not pretending you don't know you're dangerous."
I stayed still.
Every instinct screamed to move—to put distance between us—but I didn't.
Because she wasn't touching me like she wanted something.
She was touching me like she trusted me.
That was worse.
"You had twelve bottles," I said quietly.
She shrugged. "Thirteen if you count the shot Felix spilled on the floor and I licked."
I stared. "Please tell me you're joking."
She smiled sweetly. "I am not."
I closed my eyes for half a second. "You're impossible."
"Mm," she hummed, swaying slightly. "You like that about me."
She wasn't wrong.
She laughed again, softer this time, and pushed herself upright—then promptly wobbled.
I caught her automatically.
Hands on her waist. Firm. Controlled.
She froze.
So did I.
The room went very quiet.
She looked down at my hands, then back up at me, eyes dark and curious.
"Oh," she said softly. "There you are."
I dropped my hands immediately. "Sit."
She pouted. Actually pouted.
"You're very bossy for someone pretending not to be in charge."
"Jay."
She sighed dramatically, then turned and plopped down beside me—too close again, shoulder pressed to mine, her knee brushing my thigh.
I didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
She leaned her head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. "You know," she said lazily, "I could ruin you if I wanted."
I swallowed. "You're drunk."
She turned her head toward me, smile slow, knowing. "And you're very tense."
Her fingers lifted—hovered near my collarbone.
Didn't touch.
That restraint—drunk or not—hit harder than anything else tonight.
I looked at her then. Really looked.
Smudged eyeliner. Flushed cheeks. A softness she never let anyone see unless she felt safe.
"I admire you," I said before I could stop myself.
She blinked. "Yeah?"
"You scare people without trying," I continued quietly. "And then you smile and make them forget why."
Her expression softened.
"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me tonight."
Her head tipped gently onto my shoulder.
Just rested there.
No pressure.
No demand.
My body went rigid anyway.
"You're warm," she murmured. "Like… solid."
I stared straight ahead, heart thudding. "You need to lie down."
"In a minute," she said sleepily. "Just… let me flirt a little. I earned it."
A breathy laugh escaped her.
I let it.
Because she wasn't asking for anything.
She was just being Jay—unguarded, fearless, and devastating without meaning to be.
After a few seconds, her weight shifted heavier against me.
Her breathing evened out.
She'd fallen asleep sitting up.
I stared down at her, hair tickling my jaw, and shook my head once.
"Control," I muttered to myself.
Then, carefully—so carefully—I stood and lifted her again.
This time, she didn't stir.
And as I carried her back upstairs, one truth settled deep in my chest:
Tonight didn't break my control.
It showed me exactly what I was protecting her from.
---
KEIFER'S POV — WHEN CONTROL HOLDS BY A THREAD
Halfway up the stairs—
She stirred.
A soft sound left her throat, confused and warm, fingers curling into my shirt like they knew where to go even if she didn't.
"Kei…" she murmured.
I froze.
"Jay," I whispered. "Hey—stay asleep."
Her lashes fluttered open just enough for her to find me.
And then—
She leaned forward.
No hesitation. No calculation. Just instinct.
Her lips crashed into mine.
Hot. Messy. Uncoordinated.
And devastating.
For half a second—just one—I didn't think.
I responded.
My mouth moved against hers automatically, muscle memory and want colliding in a rush of heat.
Her lips were warm, soft, tasting like alcohol and something sweet underneath. She sighed into the kiss, fingers fisting harder in my shirt like she'd been searching for this all night.
It wasn't pretty.
It was real.
And it knocked the breath clean out of me.
Then—
I pulled back.
Hard.
Too hard.
"Jay," I said, voice rough, hands gripping her arms to steady her. "No. You're—no."
She blinked at me, confusion flickering across her face, the moment already slipping.
"…okay," she whispered, like she trusted me to decide.
And just like that—
Her head tipped forward.
Her body went slack against mine.
Out.
Completely.
I stood there on the stairs, heart hammering, lips still burning like she'd branded them.
I exhaled slowly. Shakily.
"Control," I muttered again, but this time it wasn't a reminder.
It was a prayer.
I carried her the rest of the way up without stopping, laid her gently on the bed, pulled the blanket over her shoulders like she was something precious instead of dangerous.
She sighed in her sleep.
Turned toward me.
And without waking, her fingers curled into my sleeve again.
I didn't move.
I sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment, staring at the wall, jaw tight, replaying the feel of her mouth against mine like it was burned into my nervous system.
Finally, I lay down beside her.
Not touching.
Close enough to feel the heat of her through the blanket. Close enough to know she was safe.
My lips still tingled.
My chest still ached.
And sleep didn't come easily.
Because control hadn't failed tonight.
But it had been tested in a way no plan ever prepared me for.
And even hours later—
I could still feel her kiss like a ghost on my mouth.
Waiting.