LENA.

“Happy birthday, baby. Keep your eyes closed.”

I stood outside Tyler’s apartment door in the black lace set I’d bought three weeks ago, the one that pushed my tits up and made my ass look like an invitation. A bottle of his favorite whiskey in one hand. The key he’d given me six months ago in the other. I’d spent the entire day edging myself—porn, fingers, the vibe I only used when I was desperate—saving every ache for him. I wanted to walk in, drop the coat, and ride him until he forgot his own name.

I unlocked the door quietly, smiling like an idiot.

The living room was...