The heat inside the living room felt heavier now, charged with a thick, heavy energy that made every breath feel like drawing steam into my lungs.

Sloane didn't wait for me to answer. Her hands were frantic, her fingers clumsy with desperation as she worked at the brass button of my denim shorts. The metallic pop sounded like a starter pistol in the quiet house.

“Lift your hips,” she ordered, her voice raspy, completely stripped of its usual playful bounce.

I lifted myself off her just enough for her to yank my shorts down my legs, tossing them blindly into the shadows behind us. I was left in nothing but...