I arrived at the studio just past 10 p.m., the city outside the big front windows already blurred with rain and neon. My skirt was short, no panties, no bra—just a thin black top that clung to my nipples the second the cool air hit me. I’d been wet since I left the house. Every red light on the drive had me pressing my thighs together, trying to ease the ache. It didn’t help. Nothing helped anymore except the thought of Ryder’s hands, his mouth, the way he looked at the tattoo he’d put on me like it was his signature on my skin.

The door was unlocked. I pushed...