Shawn

I followed Amelia to the dance floor. If I'm being honest with myself, the only reason I agreed to dance with her was jealousy. I was jealous that Janet was there—with René. She was his, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

Janet deserved better.
She deserved me.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even notice she was gone. I scanned the club quickly, panic setting in when I didn't see her anywhere. Amelia touched my face, pulling my attention back to her.

"Are you okay, Shawn?"

I forced a small smile, then spotted Gil nearby.

"Excuse me for just a second, Amelia."

Gil was dancing close to some guy I'd never seen before, hands on his knees, completely lost in the music.

"Gil!" I yelled over the bass. "Have you seen J?"

"Last time I checked, she was in VIP."

"Gil—she's gone. And so is René."

He threw his hands up. I couldn't tell what he was feeling more—the music or the alcohol.

"Gil!"

"Girl, calm your tits and have some fun," he shouted back, pointing toward Amelia, who was still standing where I'd left her, watching me patiently.

"I'm worried about her, Gil. Something just feels off."

He leaned in, his tone suddenly serious.

"Shawn, you wanna know what's really off?" he said. "You're in love with a married woman. Bottom line—that's her husband. That's who she's choosing. Don't stop your life waiting on her to notice you."

He kissed my cheek and went right back to dancing.

I glanced over at Amelia. She smiled at me, slow and confident.

Maybe Gil was right. Maybe I couldn't keep putting my life on hold for something that might never happen.

Amelia walked toward me, closing the distance. She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear.

"Take me home with you, Shawn," she whispered.

The hairs on my arms stood on end.

I looked at her, smiled, and nodded. She knew exactly what she wanted tonight—and for the moment, so did I.

"Let's go."

Shawn's Apartment

Opening the door to my apartment, I let Amelia walk in first.

"Damn," she said, looking around. "If this is how a backup dancer lives, I want in."

She was funny—sexy. A dangerous combination.

"Very cute," I said, smirking. "That's choreographer, mama. Now let's see what you've got."

I dropped onto the couch and grabbed the stereo remote. She swayed her hips, turned slowly, giving me a perfect view that made me lick my lips without thinking.

"Take it off," I said.

She didn't hesitate—slipping the straps from her shoulders and letting the dress fall to the floor. She smiled at me, and despite myself, I smiled back.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it.

Amelia stepped closer, climbing onto the coffee table. I stood and lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as she laughed softly.

"You're full of surprises," she said.

I knew what she meant, but I played it off. "You never know when a space needs to be filled."

She laughed as I laid her back, the music pulsing through the room. My phone buzzed again—over and over—but I tossed it onto the couch without looking.

What followed was intense and unrestrained—heat, movement, breathless laughter, and want. Amelia didn't hold back, and neither did I. She was wild and confident, completely present in the moment.

When it was over, she collapsed beside me, smiling lazily.

"Damn, Shawn," she said. "You know what you're doing."

I laughed. "Right back at you."

She dressed quickly, glancing over her shoulder. "You don't do sleepovers?"

"Not with someone I just met."

She grinned. "Fair. But we should definitely do this again. Maybe I'll even let you buy me dinner next time."

I walked her to the door. "My driver's downstairs. He'll take you wherever you need to go."

"Fancy," she said, smiling one last time before leaving.

The door closed behind her.

I felt good—spent—but then I noticed my phone still buzzing on the couch. I picked it up.

Thirteen missed calls.

All from Janet.

My stomach dropped.

There was a voicemail.