"I don't want you to panic," he began, raising a hand slowly as if approaching a feral animal. "But you have a spider in your hair."
But that's exactly what she did. She panicked.
Eva let out a high-pitched yelp, more instinctive than dignified. Her mug slipped from her hands, splashing hot coffee across her chest and blouse as it clattered to the table. She leapt to her feet, fingers flying to her hair in pure horror, frantically patting and pulling at invisible webs.
"Shit! Fuck!" she gasped. "Get it off! Oh my God, is it still there?"
"Careful!!!" Alex was already around the table. He swatted at her hair with one hand while the other snatched a napkin from the table. He was all action, surprisingly gentle. "It's just a spider. What is it with you women and bugs? Dammit."
But Eva wasn't hearing him. She was still twitching, shaking her head. "Was it big? Did it go down my back?!"
"It's gone. You survived. Relax, warrior princess," he said.
But as he turned back to her, his hand still holding the napkin, his eyes dropped.
Eva followed his gaze—and only then realized what had happened.
The coffee had soaked through her blouse, turning the pale fabric almost translucent. Her bra clung damply to her skin, the outline of her breast visible beneath. But more pressing—Alex was currently dabbing at her chest, his hand unintentionally cupping the slope of her breast as he wiped the coffee with hurried precision.
His palm stilled. Her breath hitched.
It took them both a full second to realize the awkward intimacy of the moment. And when they did, neither moved.
Alex slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers, his brows raised not in uncertainty. He didn't back away. He didn't smirk. For once, he wasn't the witty man with the innuendos.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
"Yes… thank you," she managed, though her voice came out shakier than she intended.
They stood frozen—close enough to feel each other's breath, yet afraid to lean closer. Eva's skin tingled where his hand had just been, her nerves buzzing. It had been so long since anyone had touched her like that. Her body hadn't forgotten, even if her mind kept insisting it had.
"We shouldn't," she whispered.
"No," he agreed instantly, but it was a reluctant, breathless kind of agreement.
Yet neither of them moved. Not backward, not forward. They just… stood there. Her chest still tingled from the accidental touch, and his eyes hadn't left her lips for a full thirty seconds now.
"We just met," she tried again. Even she didn't sound convinced anymore.
"Mm. Inappropriate," he agreed once more, nodding with mock seriousness. But his eyes… his eyes were laughing. And darkening. And dangerous.
Both of them lingered on the edge, waiting—begging—for the other to blink, to be the adult, to take the logical step back.
Neither moved.
Logic crumbled. Lust roared.
And then their lips collided—no, crashed. There was nothing gentle about it. It was a brutal, breathless battle of want and need, of aching loneliness and unspoken hunger.
Hands moved blindly, urgently. Eva didn't even remember how her blouse got unbuttoned or how his shirt ended up on the kitchen floor. All she knew was that they were navigating each other's bodies faster than lightning.
For a fleeting, absurd second, she thanked the universe for making her wear the sexy red matching set today. A tiny mercy in the chaos. Normally, she wore grey cotton comfort. But not today. Today, fate dressed her like a woman about to be sinfully devoured.
Alex's lips found the tender part of her skin where the coffee had spilled. His tongue moved over it gently, as if trying to soothe the sting with heat of a different kind. Eva gasped—her head falling back, body arching instinctively, giving him more, offering more.
She shouldn't be doing this. She should stop. It was wrong.
And yet…
His hands were large and warm, trailing over her ribs and spine. His mouth moved with hunger. He groaned into her skin.
Eva's fingers dug into his back, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She could smell the faint mix of his cologne and her own skin. Everything was heat and friction and soft moans she didn't recognize as her own.
It's just a fuck, she told herself.
Nothing to it.
In one confident click, her bra was gone. Her gasp was electric. She cried out in pure ecstasy as his mouth closed hungrily over one breast, his hand firmly claiming the other. His tongue was hot, his grip firm. He was devouring her.
"Alex…" she breathed.
But he didn't answer. Couldn't. He was too busy. His mouth moved in circles, teasing her until she thought she'd lose her mind. His fingers had learned her body with unholy precision, finding the aching spots she didn't even know were sensitive.
And then, with a glint in his eyes, he pulled away—only to guide her gently down until she was lying flat across the breakfast table, her hair splayed, her legs dangling helplessly in the air.
"Wait… this is… oh—God," she barely managed before he dropped to his knees.
He slid her panties off. And then—without hesitation—he lifted her legs over his shoulders, holding her, and bent down to taste her.
What followed was not of this world.
Eva's back arched off the table. Stars exploded in her vision as if the universe had suddenly erupted behind her eyelids. Her hands clawed at the polished surface, knocking over a half-empty sugar bowl. It crashed somewhere, unnoticed.
"Fuuuuuck!!!" she cried out, dragging the word through a moan so guttural it startled even her.
Alex was relentless, tongue dancing with maddening precision, pulling sounds out of her that she'd never made for any man—not even the one who claimed to love her. She felt herself unravel, felt the scream crawl up her throat, felt her body jerk as she came hard against his mouth.