Heatstroke || Levi Ackerman

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Five minutes.

The music and shouting from the party dulled the second Levi shut the equipment room door behind them. The click of the lock was louder than it should've been.

He leaned back against the door, pulling his phone from his pocket and tapping the screen until a timer appeared. Five minutes. He set it and slid the phone into his back pocket.

"We don't have to do anything," he said evenly, like it was just a statement of fact.

Jayda's pulse thudded in her throat. Don't have to and shouldn't were not the same thing-and after everything tonight, the latter didn't hold much weight.

She took a step toward him. Then another. Until there was barely a breath of space left between them.

Tilting her chin up, she let her voice drop. "Is that really what you want?"

His eyes flicked over her face, unreadable, but she caught the way his jaw tightened. His shoulders, usually so stiff and guarded, shifted almost imperceptibly, like he was fighting the urge to reach for her.

Jayda let the silence stretch, her own body thrumming with the nearness of him, the memory of his mouth on hers, the taste of tequila and lime still tangled in her thoughts.

The bass from the party pulsed faintly through the walls, but in here it was just the two of them-and the knowledge that they had four minutes and change to decide how far this would go.

Levi didn't answer her. Not with words, anyway.