The house felt... too quiet.
Dinner had ended hours ago, but neither Arthur nor Rosie could shake the tight coil of unease and desire winding in their stomachs. Jane and Charles's private engagement had been beautiful. Intimate. But something about it made Rosie feel even more isolated. Like she and Arthur were the two people left in a storm, clinging to a truth they couldn't admit in daylight.
It wasn't just about love. It wasn't just sex.
It was fire and guilt and hunger—and a need to taste freedom in the wrongest way possible.
Rosie found herself knocking on Arthur's door.
He opened, shirtless, jaw tensed. The second their eyes met, something snapped.
She walked in without asking.
He closed the door slowly.
"Everything alright?" he asked.
Rosie sat on the edge of his bed. "You tell me."
Arthur exhaled. "I've been losing my mind since dinner."
She met his gaze. "I've been thinking too much. About us. About how insane this all is. And how I don't want to stop."
Arthur didn't move. "I don't want to either."
"But," she said slowly, "I've been thinking about more than just us being together."
He raised a brow. "Like what?"
Her voice dipped. "Like... the thrill of what we did last time. When we could've gotten caught."
Arthur's eyes darkened, interest piqued. "That excited you?"
Rosie bit her lip. "A little too much."
"Tell me more," he said, stepping closer.
"I don't want to be safe," she whispered. "I want to feel that adrenaline again. The risk. The danger. It made everything hotter."
Arthur smirked, grabbing her chin between his fingers. "So you want to do something risky again?"
"I want you," she whispered. "Outside. On the terrace. While they're home. While they might hear."
That was all he needed to hear.
They were out on the terrace within minutes, moonlight illuminating her curves as she slipped off her top, letting the night air kiss her bare skin. Arthur's mouth went dry.
"Holy fuck, Rosie," he muttered, stepping forward and yanking her into him. "You really are dangerous."
She laughed breathlessly, tugging at his waistband. "Then ruin me. Right here."
Their bodies slammed together like magnets, lips crashing, hands fumbling. Arthur lifted her onto the stone railing of the terrace, ignoring every rational voice in his head.
"You want to be loud?" he growled into her neck.
"Yes."
"You want them to hear?"
"I want to moan your name while Jane and Charles are downstairs."
Her boldness set something off in him. Arthur pushed her panties aside, sliding two fingers inside, slow and deliberate. Rosie's head fell back, a strangled gasp escaping her lips.
"Fuck—Arthur—"
"Shhh, not yet. Don't come yet."
"I hate you," she breathed.
"No, you don't."
He dropped to his knees, devouring her like a man starved. She writhed against the railing, her fingers tangled in his hair as her legs shook violently.
"Make me scream."
"I intend to."
Minutes later, he was inside her, one leg hitched around his waist, the other still dangling over the terrace. The risk made every thrust deeper, every kiss hotter. She clung to his shoulders, moaning into his mouth.
The idea of Jane and Charles just one floor below only made her wetter.
"Fuck me harder," she whispered, voice rough.
Arthur's grip on her hips tightened. "You sure?"
"Yes. Give me everything."
They didn't stop for the next hour.
He bent her over the terrace wall, took her standing up against the glass doors, laid her flat on the floor with her legs open, her moans echoing into the cool night air.
After the second round, they collapsed in silence, breathing heavy, sweat slicking their skin.
Rosie rolled onto her side and looked at Arthur, flushed and glowing.
"You know what I realized tonight?"
"What?" he asked, brushing damp hair from her forehead.
"I want more of this. More chances to get caught. More danger. More raw, fucked-up intimacy."
Arthur stared at her. "You're serious."
She nodded. "It makes me feel alive. This whole thing—hiding, sneaking, knowing we could be found—it's my kink now."
He chuckled low in his throat. "You're trouble."
"You love it."
"I love you."
She blinked at him, stunned.
Arthur swallowed. "I mean it."
Her fingers found his. "Say it again."
"I love you, Rosie. I don't know when it happened. I don't care. But I'm not running from it."
She pressed her forehead to his. "I love you too. Even if everything's against us."
Their third round happened with soft kisses, slow rolls of hips, and whispered confessions between each movement. It was the most emotional one of the night.
Meanwhile, downstairs, the atmosphere couldn't have been more different.
Jane sat cross-legged on the oversized couch, wrapped in one of Charles's sweaters, giggling as the credits rolled on a romantic comedy. Charles offered her another handful of popcorn and a mischievous grin.
"That was so bad, it was actually kind of amazing," he said, nudging her shoulder.
She leaned into him. "Exactly! It was pure chaos. But like… charming chaos."
They'd been swapping Netflix picks all evening—one of her comfort movies, one of his nostalgic favorites. Between films, they sipped on hot chocolate and let their conversation drift into old memories.
"Do you remember our first real date?" Jane asked suddenly, eyes softening.
Charles chuckled. "Of course. You were twenty minutes late because you spilled coffee all over your dress and had to change twice."
She mock-pouted. "You said you couldn't tell."
"I lied. But I thought you looked adorable anyway."
Their laughter filled the room like the glow of the fireplace.
"Back then," he said after a pause, "I had no idea we'd end up here. Engaged. Planning a future."
Jane reached for his hand. "I hoped. I just… didn't think I deserved something this good."
He turned serious. "You deserve everything good. Every second."
She kissed his knuckles, then rested her head on his shoulder. "Promise we'll always keep this—these simple nights. Even when things get hard."
"Promise," he said, kissing the top of her head.
The two of them dozed off together, tangled in blankets, the soft hum of a documentary playing in the background.
By the time Arthur and Rosie got back into the house, it was nearly five in the morning.
She tiptoed back into her room, barefoot and breathless. He followed her minutes later, and they curled into each other under her blanket.
Before sleep took her, Rosie whispered into his chest, "Let's never stop being reckless."
Arthur kissed her hair. "Deal."