The hallway was dark, only the dim glow from under her bedroom door stretching toward him like a trail. He hadn’t meant to come home like this—still in his flight suit, smelling of jet fuel and sweat, but leave had been approved last-minute, and the thought of waiting another night had been unbearable.

Then—a sound.

A breathy little gasp, muffled but unmistakable. His steps stopped dead on the hardwood.

No. Fucking. Way.

His pulse hammered in his throat as he stepped closer, pressing his palm flat against the door. Too late to knock. Too late to pretend he hadn’t heard.

Inside, the rustle of sheets. A shaky inhale. The wet, slick sound of fingers moving—too timid, too unsure, but trying. God, she was trying.

Heat coiled low in his gut, sharp and possessive.

He didn’t bother knocking.

The door swung open.

—flushed, wide-eyed, legs splayed with her panties shoved to the side, fingers frozen right there, glistening against her cunt.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Then his voice came out rough, amused, dangerous. “Well looky here..”

"That’s not how you do it, pips." he continued quickly

Her whole body jerked, yanking her hand away like she’d been burned as she rambled out excuses. That Caleb didn’t care about in this moment to hear out or even acknowledge.

He kicked the door shut behind him, already shrugging off his jacket. "Lucky for you," he murmured, dropping to his knees at the edge of her bed, "gege’s home early."

His hand closed around her wrist.

"And I’m gonna show you how it’s done."