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“Oh, I’m sorry that me caring about you is such a fucking trigger for you,” he spits back.

“You have no control over your drinking and NYC’s party scene is dangerous as fuck.

Also, you hanging out with a guy who’s hopelessly in love with you every single day is not exactly fair to me. Or him, for that matter.”

“Nate is not!” I chime in instantly, defensive.

He ignores me. “Please! He’s your little puppy and has been panting after you for years. You can’t be this na?ve.” Guilty, I guess. “And yeah, I don’t want my girlfriend posting thirst traps for online creeps. Sue me!”

Girlfriend?

“This is my job,” I remind him. “And it’s literally the same old argument I was having with Aiden.”

“Oh, my fucking God! How many times are you gonna bring him up?” He tenses up and his knee bounces nervously, making my whole body shake. “You can post different content.”

“That’s what people want.”

“So what? If it’s about money, I’ll take care of you.” He doesn’t even pause before throwing the next jab. “You don’t need to entertain so-called bikers who buy a motorcycle just to dance next to it for likes. Some don’t even own a bike—just a helmet.”

“God, you’re so pretentious,” I groan.

“No, I just speak the truth out loud.”

“So… pretentious , then?”

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll take that over being fake.”

“That’s rich, coming from a masked YouTuber. Do you not see the hypocrisy? You post riding vlogs, too.” Which I watch like my favorite show…

“Of me actually riding, thank you very much,” he barks back. “Also, I wore a mask before it became a trend. It’s to protect my identity. And it was supposed to be scary. Not my fault that everyone started to sexualize it.”

“And the voice?” I raise an eyebrow.

“It’s just my fucking voice.”

“Your fanbase is vile,” I say quickly, giving him another reason.

He seems caught off guard. “What?”

“Yes, they are obsessed with you. I literally got death threats over you. It’s hard as it is for me being an egirl and sharing parts of my life online.

People will say the most unhinged things in the comments.

And it got progressively worse after they clocked that we were friends.

I’m a TikToker, a trend, just a pretty face with a nice body.

You’re like a celebrity. I could never be good enough for you in their eyes. ”

“Why haven’t you said anything? I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks,” he purrs, cradling me closer. “You’re all I want, Bunny. You always were. Always will be.”

I pretend I didn’t hear that. I can’t afford to. “Ghost, I want big love like from old movies. You… you don’t do romance. And even if you wanted to try for me, you’re too paranoid to take off your mask. You barely go out. Imagine us on a date. Because I can’t see that happening.”

He doesn’t argue. For a second, I feel like I’ve won.

Oh, silly me!

“And you were ready to throw all of it away like I meant nothing to you? Simply give up without even trying to make it work? And for what? To see what else is out there?”

“What? No!” I protest, stiffening. “I just freaked out! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Wow. So that’s why you left me fucking stranded at the airport trying to reach you? Because you didn’t want to hurt me?”

I’m not good at confrontations. There’s so much hostility in him that my eyes fill with tears.

“I texted you not to come before you boarded,” I mumble under my breath, as if that made it any better.

His hand tightens on my thigh, just where my stocking ends and bare skin peeks from under the skirt of my dress. “And you really thought I wouldn’t fly there anyway?”

“Well… I hoped you’d have saved yourself the trip.”

“In hindsight, maybe I should have. But I never imagined you’d block my number and have Nate, of all people, confronting me about how you didn’t want to see me.”

“Come on. I felt horrible. The last thing I needed was you showing up at my doorstep.”

“Right,” he says, voice thick with sarcasm. “Because me, proving to you what a mistake you were making, would have been horrendous.” His hand slides across my leg, fingers grazing the bare skin between the lace of my thigh-high stockings.

I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off. “What was the reason, Bunny?” His voice is steady. Unyielding. And I know he’s not going to drop it.

I shift in his lap, my pulse pounding in my eardrums, my head a mush. “You know how we were… um, sexting?”

“Yes.” It’s impossible to read anything from his tone—no amusement, no irritation, just stillness.

“And—” I hesitate, heat creeping up my neck. “Oh, this is so embarrassing…”

“Speak up.”

My breath hitches, and my lower abdomen clenches at the authority in his voice. His command sends a jolt through me, sharp and electric, leaving a tingle behind. I force myself to look at him, though my heart slams against my ribs like a trapped bird.

“I might have… given you the impression that I’m more adventurous. Or… more experienced than I actually am.”

Silence. The tension in the air is razor-sharp, causing me to squirm.

“Okay,” he finally says. Not the slightest hint of surprise to be heard. “And?”

Take a hint, bro!

“And some of the things we talked about are way out of my comfort zone.”

He hums. “But you enjoyed talking about them,” he counters smoothly, his fingers flexing against my flesh.

I chew my lip. “True, but it’s different via text. And I guess I panicked when you were supposed to fly to me and possibly… do all these things to me.”

One second, I can breathe—the next, his hand is wrapped around my neck firmly like a collar. A gasp gets caught in my throat. His grip isn’t suffocating, but it’s enough to make me hyperaware of his strength, his control.

“You think having me chase you is fun?” His voice is a gravelly rasp, rougher than usual, each word dragging like sandpaper over my skin.

A whimper escapes me before I can stop it. I wiggle on his lap, trying to get free, but it only makes his grip tighten. My hands circle his wrist, but I don’t push him away.

I don’t want him to stop.

He tilts his head slightly, like he’s studying me. “You have no idea the things I want to do to you now for being such a naughty little tease.” His fingers press against my pulse, feeling it race beneath my skin. His other hand slides lower on my thigh, his touch grazing the hem of my skirt.

The heat between my thighs throbs, and I shift on his lap, desperate for some kind of relief.

Big mistake.

Ghost’s grip tightens on my throat just enough to make me dizzy. “You’re not as innocent, Bunny.” His voice drips with dark amusement, but it’s edged with something deeper. Darker. “Tatts, piercings… you like a little pain, don’t you?”

I shake my head—or try to—but his hold keeps me still. “That’s not the same,” I protest breathlessly. “Besides,” I force out, “I even chickened out when I went to get my nipples pierced and then… it never happened.”

He finally releases my throat, dragging his palm down my collarbone, over my rose tattoo, then lower, lower still—until he’s tracing slow, deliberate circles around my nipple through the thin fabric of my dress.

“I like that they aren’t pierced,” he muses, his fingers rolling the hardened peak between them. “You’d look hot as fuck, don’t get me wrong,” he casually continues, like he’s not currently unraveling me, “but piercing gets in the way.”

I swallow hard. “In the way of what?”

His fingers tighten, pinching just hard enough to make my head fall back. “Nipple clamps, for example.”

A strangled noise gets caught in my throat as I press my thighs together, quivering. “See? This is what I’m talking about.” My voice is weak, needy, and it only makes him chuckle darkly.

Ghost’s grip on my leg turns possessive, his long fingers curling right against the gap between my thighs, forcing them apart.

“So if I reach down,” he murmurs, voice like a devilish promise, “I won’t find you wet?”

“No,” I whisper.

He chuckles. “Liar.” I feel his mask brush against my ear, and I shudder. “You want me,” he murmurs, his voice deep enough to touch my soul. His fingers shifting lower. He doesn’t touch me—not quite. Just hovers. Teases. “You need me. You’re just too fucking stubborn to admit it.”

I turn my face toward him, frustration burning through me.

My fingers curl around the edge of his balaclava, pulling it up over his inked neck, just enough to reveal the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw.

An adorable dimple in his chin. His full lips curved into that goddamn smirk. The tip of his straight nose.

He’s gorgeous. Of course he is.

I hate him.

“Bad little bunny.” He grins, and even his teeth are perfect. “Can’t help yourself, can you?”

And that’s all I get.

“Now, now,” he mocks. “Don’t make me tie you up.” Then he grabs both my wrists in one of his large hands and yanks them behind my back. I gasp as he pins them there, his grip unshakable, his hold effortlessly dominant.

“Uh, how can you talk about being serious when you won’t even show me your face?” I accuse, grasping at any line of defense I can.

“You’ve seen my face on New Year’s Eve.”

“I don’t… remember.”

“Which brings us back to my point of you drinking too much.”

This fucking jerk .

“You’re insufferable,” I hiss, trying to free myself.

It’s useless.

If anything, it only makes his grip tighten.

“Keep misbehaving, and I’ll have to punish you.”

I squirm on his lap, heat flooding me, every nerve on high alert. His free hand returns to my chest, much bolder now as he tugs at the cleavage of my dress. My breasts spill free, and his hand covers one immediately, fingers toying with my taut nipple, twisting and rolling it until I moan again.

Then, his mouth… oh God, his mouth is on me.