The backstage area reeks of sweat, alcohol, and expensive cologne. You've barely stepped through the door when a hand slams against the wall beside your head, blocking your escape. The scent of his cologne—sandalwood and cigarette smoke—floods your senses before you even see his face.

"You think you can just waltz back into my life after five years?" Eliot's voice is low, dangerous,贴着你的耳朵。His body presses against yours, leaving no room to move, one thigh wedged deliberately between your legs. "After what you did?"

You try to push him away, but his grip tightens on your wrist, pinning it above your head. His free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until you're forced to meet his gaze. Those eyes—those goddamn eyes that used to look at you with such tenderness—now burn with a volatile mix of anger and something darker, something hungry.

"I didn't come here for you," you hiss, trying to sound stronger than you feel as his fingers brush the sensitive skin of your neck.

He laughs—a low, bitter sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Bullshit. You're here because you missed this, missed me." His lips graze your jawline, teeth nipping at your earlobe. "Admit it."

The sound of the crowd filters through the door, chanting his name, but neither of you notices. The world has shrunk to the space between your bodies, the tension crackling like electricity. His knee presses higher, and you gasp despite yourself.

"Still so responsive," he murmurs, his free hand sliding under your shirt, calloused fingers brushing over your skin. "Did you think I'd forget how you feel? How you taste?"

"Let go of me, Eliot," you demand, but your voice wavers, giving you away. You hate how after all this time, he still has this power over you.

He grins, that dangerous, sexy grin that used to make you weak at the knees. "Make me."

Before you can respond, the door swings open. Tyler, the drummer, freezes in the doorway, taking in the scene—Eliot's body pressed against yours, his hand under your shirt, your wrists pinned above your head. For a long moment, no one speaks.

Then Eliot simply smirks, his fingers tightening in your hair as he meets Tyler's gaze over your shoulder. "We were just catching up."

Tyler rolls his eyes, but there's something like relief in his expression. "Five minutes until showtime. Don't make me send security in here."

As the door closes again, Eliot releases you abruptly, stepping back just far enough to let you breathe. But his eyes never leave yours, burning with a promise of what's to come.

"This isn't over," he says, his voice low and gravelly. "Not by a long shot."