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As if that’s going to happen.

I leaned in, my body making the decision for me, my eyes fluttering shut just as his lips met mine. Our first kiss—my first ever kiss—was perfect.

Devlin kissed me with a slow, aching tenderness, his lips soft and coaxing, each movement a deliberate invitation rather than a demand. His warmth melted into me, sending a slow, delicious shiver rolling down my spine. But just as he began to pull away,his teeth dragged over my bottom lip, a teasing, possessive graze that sent a pulse of heat straight through me.

A silent promise that next time there would be nothing gentle about it.

“Why don’t you go finish your writing,” he murmured, shifting his weight, completely unbothered by the very obvious outline of the erection tenting his sweatpants, “while I make the arrangements for our first date tonight.”

***

As it turns out, writer’s block is easily cured by the promise of someone going down on you later that evening.

In just two hours, I had completely rewritten the last scene and finished editing up to the next one—something that would have taken me a full day under normal circumstances.

While I waited for Devlin to return from his trip into town to arrange our date, I managed to take a long, much-needed bath, style my hair, attempt to do my makeup—only to realize makeup does, in fact, have an expiration date for a reason—wash my face again, before putting on a full fashion show for a very excited BooDini.

By the time Devlin walked through the door, I was waiting for him on the couch, wearing the only dress I owned—a grungy green-and-burgundy oversized shirt dress—paired with an old set of Doc Martens I had borrowed from my friend Lex and never returned. It wasn’t quite as sensual as I had originally envisioned, but it was the furthest thing from my trusty old hoodie.

Devlin stepped inside and did a double take, his amber eyes sweeping over me, his lips curling into a grin.

“You look stunning,” he said, his voice warm and appreciative.

I was spared from a torrent of flustered babbling when an excited BooDini came fluttering down the stairs to greet Devlin.

Devlin leaned in, whispering something conspiratorially to BooDini, who nodded enthusiastically, then clutched its hands to its chest before rocketing back up the stairs, disappearing into its attic hiding place.

“I’m ready when you are,” I said, doing my best to sound casual, as if this wasn’t my first-ever date.

Devlin’s gaze flicked to the clock on the mantle. “It needs to be completely dark for the full effect, and the sun won’t set for another forty minutes.”

“Okay,” I said, shifting on my feet. “So, what do you want to do in the meantime?”

“Actually,” he said, his voice carrying an odd note, something I couldn’t quite place, “I was thinking about dropping in on the Cadmuses.” I frowned slightly, searching his expression. “To thank Mr. Cadmus for his advice the other night,” he added.

I bit the inside of my cheek, hesitation flickering through me. “Okay,” I said after a beat. “Let me grab my coat, and I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to, Jen,” Devlin said, watching me carefully. “Not if it would make you uncomfortable.”

“They’re my neighbors, Devlin,” I said. “I’ll have to face them sooner or later.”

***

Five minutes later, we stood in front of the Cadmuses’ house—though it was nothing like I remembered.

The once-vibrant garden, overflowing with flowers so lush it had looked like something plucked from a postcard, was now withered and lifeless. The colors were gone, swallowed by tangles of long grass and thick clumps of weeds. The rottingporch sagged under the weight of autumnal decay, teetering piles of moldering leaves stacked in each corner. A broken love swing hung to one side, its chains entwined with ivy, nature slowly consuming what was left.

The only indication that someone still lived here was a single plastic chair, untouched by the leaf litter, positioned as if it saw regular use. The windows were streaked with grime, their interiors covered with old, yellowed newspapers, sealing the house away from prying eyes.

The place was falling apart, and I dreaded seeing what state the inside was in.

Devlin took my hand, guiding me up the porch steps, his grip steady and reassuring. He tested each plank carefully, making sure it could hold our weight before allowing me to step forward. At the top, he cast me a final glance, a silent offer to turn back if I wanted to.

I squeezed Devlin’s hand.Go ahead.

He knocked on the door, the sound dull and hollow, muffled slightly by the soft rot eating away at the wood.

A deafening shriek rang out from inside. I jumped, my heart lurching into my throat as dark figures moved behind the papered windows.