Her fingers were warm in his; that was the thing. Warm and trusting, curling around his as they belonged there, like she'd decided a long time ago that this was exactly where they were supposed to be. Jeff led her through the crowd, past the pool table where someone was still cheering, past the bar where Lena's laughter cut through the noise like a blade wrapped in silk. He didn't look at her. He kept his eyes on the staircase.

The dark wood creaked under his weight, and hers followed a half-step behind, her sandals whispering against the worn carpet. The party noise faded with each step, replaced by the hollow sound of their breathing and the thud of his heart, which had been going too fast since the moment Lena walked in wearing that black dress.

At the foot of the steps, Bella paused.

He felt it in the tug of her hand, the slight resistance. He turned, and she was looking up at him from the stair below, her head tilted, the low light catching the curve of her jaw.

"You're sure," she said, "there's nothing I need to know about her?"

The question hung in the warm, still air. Somewhere below, the music shifted, a bassline that thumped through the floorboards like a second heartbeat. Jeff could feel the lie sitting in his throat, heavy and familiar, the way it always sat now, the way it had sat since the morning he'd spent with Lena and Dani in the bed where Bella slept.

He kissed her instead of answering.

Slow, deliberate, the way he'd kissed her in the back room. His hand came up to cup her jaw, his thumb brushing the soft skin beneath her ear, and he poured everything he couldn't say into the press of his mouth against hers. She softened into him, her hand finding his chest, her fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt like she was anchoring herself.

When he pulled back, her eyes were soft and trusting.

The same eyes that had looked at him across the restaurant table in the white sundress. The same eyes that had offered to let him call Lena back because she believed he wanted to be different.

He took her hand again and pulled her up the stairs.

The bedroom door clicked shut behind them, and the sound was louder than it should have been, final in a way that made his chest tighten. He pressed her against the door, his body flush against hers, one hand braced on the wood beside her head, and she gasped softly, her sundress riding up her thighs.

But her eyes searched his face in the dim light.

"Jeff." Her voice was quiet, uncertain. "What is it?"

"Nothing." He kissed her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, the faint perfume she'd worn. "I just want you."

Her hands came up to his shoulders, her fingers digging in slightly, and she let him kiss her again, deeper this time, her mouth opening under his. The lamp on the nightstand cast a low golden glow across the bed, the sheets clean and white, and the party below was a distant hum, a world away from this room where Bella was pressing against him like she wanted to disappear into his skin.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, the knot in his chest tightened, because he knew the truth wouldn't stay buried much longer.

But he pushed it down. He always pushed it down.

His hands found the straps of her sundress, sliding them down her shoulders, and she shivered as the fabric slipped, pooling at her waist. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts spilled free, her nipples already hard, and he lowered his mouth to them, taking one in his lips, feeling her gasp against his hair.

Her fingers tangled in his sandy hair, pulling him closer, and she arched into him, her breath coming in quick, shallow pants. "Jeff," she breathed, and the sound of his name in her mouth was almost enough to make him forget everything else.

Almost.

He lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carried her to the bed, laying her down on the clean white sheets. Her sundress was bunched around her hips, her thighs open, and he knelt between them, looking at her in the low light, at the way her chest rose and fell, at the trust in her eyes that he didn't deserve.

"I love the way you look at me," he said, and he meant it.

Her smile was soft, uncertain. "How do I look at you?"

"Like I'm the only one in the room."

She reached for him, pulling him down, and he kissed her again, slow and deep, tasting the truth he couldn't say. His hand slid down her body, over her hip, between her thighs, and she was already wet, already ready, her breath catching as his fingers found her.

"I want you inside me," she whispered against his mouth.

He didn't make her wait.

He pushed her sundress up higher, over her hips, and she lifted her arms so he could pull it over her head, leaving her naked beneath him, her skin flushed and warm in the lamplight. He undressed himself quickly, his linen shirt hitting the floor, his pants following, and when he settled between her thighs, his cock hard and heavy against her slick heat, she made a sound low in her throat, a sound that was almost a whimper.

"Look at me," he said.

Her eyes found his, dark and wide in the dim light.

He pushed inside her.

Slow, inch by inch, feeling her stretch around him, her walls clenching as she took him deep. Her mouth fell open, a breathless gasp escaping her, and her nails dug into his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper.

"God, Jeff," she breathed. "You feel—"

"I know." He lowered his mouth to hers, swallowing her moan, and began to move.

It was slow at first, a deep, rolling rhythm that made her gasp against his lips, her hips rising to meet his, her body arching into him. The lamp cast their shadows across the wall, two bodies moving as one, and the party below was nothing but a distant hum, a world away from this room where Bella was clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered.

And for a while, he let himself forget.

For a while, there was only her — the softness of her skin, the taste of her mouth, the way she whispered his name like a prayer. He buried his face in her neck, breathing her in, and she held him, her legs wrapped tight around his waist, her heels digging into his lower back with every thrust.

"Don't stop," she whispered. "Please don't stop."

He didn't.

He drove into her deeper, harder, the bed creaking beneath them, and she cried out, her back arching off the mattress, her fingers digging into the sheets. He could feel her tightening around him, her body trembling, and he reached between them, his thumb finding her clit, pressing in slow circles that made her gasp.

"Come for me," he said, his voice rough. "Let me feel you."

She did.

Her body convulsed around him, her cunt clenching in waves, and she cried out his name, her voice breaking, her nails raking down his back. He followed her over the edge, burying himself deep, spilling inside her with a groan that was almost a sob, his forehead pressed to hers, his breath ragged.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then she laughed, soft and breathless, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "That was—"

"Yeah." He kissed her, slow and sweet. "It was."

He pulled out of her, rolling onto his back beside her, and she curled into him, her head on his chest, her hand resting over his heart. The lamp cast a golden glow across the bed, and the party below was a distant hum, and for a moment, everything was perfect.

"I need to use the bathroom," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She nodded, her eyes already drooping. "Don't be long."

He smiled, slipping out of bed, padding naked to the bathroom. The cold tile was a shock against his skin, and he splashed water on his face, looking at himself in the mirror, at the man who had just made love to a woman who trusted him, a woman who believed he wanted to be different.

A man who was still lying to her.

He dried his face, took a breath, and walked back into the bedroom.

Bella was sitting up in bed, the sheet pulled to her chest, and she wasn't smiling anymore.

"Bella?" He frowned. "What is it?"

She didn't answer. She just looked at him, her eyes searching his face in the dim light, and he felt the knot in his chest tighten again.

"She told me," Bella said quietly. "Lena."

The name hit him like a physical blow. "Told you what?"

"That you want to be serious with her." Bella's voice was flat, careful, like she was holding something fragile. "That you want to keep me as a secondary option."

Jeff felt the blood drain from his face. "That's not—Bella, that's not true."

"She said you told her."

"I never—" He stepped toward her, his hands out. "Bella, listen to me. I never said that. She's lying."

"Is she?" Bella's voice cracked. "You've been lying to me all night. You said there was nothing I needed to know about her. You kissed me, you brought me up here, you fucked me—" Her voice broke, and she pressed a hand to her mouth.

"Bella." He reached for her, but she flinched away. "Please. She's trying to get between us."

"Why would she do that?"

"Because she wants—" He stopped. Swallowed. "She wants something I can't give her."

"And what about me?" Bella's eyes were wet, shining in the lamplight. "What can you give me, Jeff? Because right now, it doesn't feel like much."

"I'm trying." His voice cracked. "I'm trying to be different."

"Trying isn't the same as doing." She shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I knew you were seeing other girls. I told myself I could handle it. I told myself you wanted to change."

"I do—"

"But I can't be a secondary option, Jeff." Her voice was quiet, steady, and somehow that was worse. "I can't be the girl you keep around while you figure out what you really want."

"You're not—"

"I need to go." She swung her legs off the bed, reaching for her sundress on the floor.

"Bella, please—"

She didn't listen.

She pulled the sundress over her head, not looking at him, her hands shaking as she smoothed it down. She didn't look at him as she walked to the door. She didn't look at him as she opened it, as she stepped into the hallway, as she started down the stairs.

"Bella!"

She didn't stop.

He stood in the doorway, naked, watching her descend the staircase, her sundress catching the low light, her shoulders set, and he felt something crack open in his chest.

Somewhere below, the party was still going. The music still swelled. Someone was still cheering near the pool table.

And Lena was standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching him with a smile that was a half-second too long.

"You'll pay for this," he said, his voice low and cold. "I promise you, Lena. You'll pay."

Her smile didn't waver.

She just turned and walked back into the crowd, her black dress catching the light, and Jeff stood alone on the landing, the warmth of the bedroom fading behind him, the cold truth settling into his bones like a winter he couldn't shake.