She knocked. Once. Twice.

The door creaked open, revealing the janitor’s silhouette, backlit by a single flickering bulb. His dark eyes locked onto hers, and for a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Then he stepped aside, letting her in.

The closet was cramped, the scent of cleaning supplies filling the air. Lily’s pulse thrummed in her throat as she turned to face him.

“You came back,” he said, voice low. Not a question. A fact.

She swallowed. “something just brought me back”

A slow smile curved his lips. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, studying her. “You already know.”

Lily shook her head. “No. I don’t.”

He sighed, as if indulging a stubborn child. Then he patted his thigh. “Come here.”

Her breath hitched. She shouldn’t. But her feet moved anyway.

She stepped between his legs, her skirt brushing his knees. His hands settled on her hips, guiding her down until she was perched on his lap. The heat of him seeped through her clothes, his grip firm.

One arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. His other hand slid up her back, fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her head just so. His breath warmed her ear as he spoke.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured. “You’re not afraid of me, Lily. You’re afraid of how much you want this.”

His lips brushed the shell of her ear, and she shuddered, her fingers clutching his shoulders.

He was right. And that terrified her most of all.