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Whoever took it caught the moment too well.

I stared at it too long.

Every memory hit at once?—

Her body bouncing on top of me. Her hand stroking my dick before sliding her mouth down the length of it. The way she whispered,“This right here. Your dick down my throat will never be pretend.”

Right before my hand gripped her head. Guiding her up and down my shaft.

It was all there. Laid bare in one image. No press release. No caption. Just truth.

My chest tightened. Because that moment had been ours. Now it was out there. Exposed. Speculated on. Packaged for clicks.

I came back to the present like someone had snapped their fingers in my face.

Sienna sat across from me—legs crossed, tea lifted to her lips, jaw tight.

I couldn’t unsee what had already been taken from us. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees.

“You tell anyone about last night?”

Her brow lifted—barely. “No.”

“Your manager?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think Brielle would’ve leaked it. That’s not like her. She’s my girl. For real.”

I nodded. Let that settle in the space between us. Watched her sip again like her lips hadn’t just been stretched around mydick, spit sliding down her chin, eyes rolled back while she moaned around my name.

“Do you think I did it?” she asked, voice soft but direct.

“No,” I said evenly. “I don’t.”

But someone did.

And whoever it was made sure to get the best shot.

“That photo was clear as fuck.”

“I know,” she murmured. “Too clear.”

Silence fell again—wide and taut.

The kind that held every question we didn’t want to ask. Because answering them would mean saying out loud that this wasn’t pretend anymore.

She turned toward the window.

Her profile still and regal. Watching planes lift into the sky while her jaw worked, tight and subtle. Her lips parted like she was trying to swallow something she didn’t want to name. Her blouse rose and fell with each breath, tugging over her tits—and her nipples? Still hard.

My dick stirred. Just like that.

She didn’t even have to try. My body had been rewritten in her key. Every moan. Every arch. Every filthy promise. Etched into my memory now. Burned into bone.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Could’ve been Jalen.”

She looked back. “You think he’d do that?”

“He knows what the label wants. Might’ve figured stirring the pot early would help.”