The house was quiet again. Still.

After the charged, almost dangerous heat in the kitchen, it was hard to believe the moment had even happened. But Maddie felt it — in her skin, in her pulse, in the hum between her legs. There was no mistaking the electricity that had crackled between the three of them like dry leaves catching fire.

She’d waited fifteen minutes. Just long enough for Chloe to fall back asleep, and for the house to seem safe again. Then she’d retreated to her guest suite — soft golden light spilling across her bedspread, the moon rising outside her wide, high windows.

She was too wired to sleep.

So she wandered. Padded barefoot across the cool wooden floor, pulled open the closet, checked the sleek ensuite bathroom, lit a single vanilla-scented candle on the nightstand. The room was luxury disguised as comfort — cloud-like bedding, soft throws, expensive design pretending to be cozy.

It didn’t match the ache pooling inside her.

She was restless.

Still in her satin camisole, she let her skirt slip to the floor. Let the silk slide down her thighs and pool around her ankles. No panties. No bra. Just skin and shadows and breath.

She crawled onto the bed and stretched like a cat — the flickering candlelight dancing across the curves of her hips, her thighs, the soft under-curve of her breasts.

She closed her eyes. Let her hand drift slowly down her stomach.

And that’s when she heard it.

A whisper of breath.
A creak in the hallway.

Her eyes opened, sharp.

There was a shadow beneath her door.

Two shadows.

Maddie sat up slowly, heartbeat fluttering. She moved toward the door, silent, soundless, her bare feet soft on the floor. The closer she got, the clearer it became: they were standing right outside.

Vanessa and Graham.

She didn’t hear words — just the soft, charged hum of hushed voices. Too low to decipher, but intimate in its rhythm. A familiar rhythm. The kind you only use when you’re talking about someone. When you’re trying not to get caught.

She waited. Breath held. Heart racing.

Then — footsteps. One of them shifted, the floor creaked. And then, something else.

A small click.

Someone was testing the door.

She stepped back, pulse pounding.

And then — the door didn’t open.
But it didn’t quite close, either.

It remained slightly ajar. Just an inch.

An invitation?
An accident?

No.
Intentional.

She moved back into the room, glancing at the mirror across from her bed — angled just right to reflect the door. Reflect the hallway.

And she waited.

And that’s when she saw them.

First Graham — tall, broad, shirtless now, his chest golden in the candlelight. His arm braced on the doorframe, body angled to the side, peeking in.

And behind him — Vanessa.

Still in her burgundy dress. But her heels were gone. Her hair was down.

And her eyes… were on Maddie.

Maddie didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. She let them watch. She moved slowly back to the bed, letting the motion exaggerate every sway of her hips. She sat down on the edge. Her legs parted slightly. Enough to let Vanessa see the glint of smooth, bare skin between them.

Her nipples were hard beneath the satin.

Her breathing quickened.

She saw Graham swallow — visibly. His gaze locked on her chest.

Vanessa, behind him, leaned forward — lips close to his ear. Maddie couldn’t hear what she said, but she saw the way his jaw clenched. The way his eyes darkened.

This was the game.

This was what they wanted.

And Maddie? She wanted it too. She wanted them to want her. To burn for her. To ache.

She lay back on the bed now, deliberately — arms stretched above her head, camisole slipping slightly, exposing more of one full, perfect breast. The candlelight caught on her curves, her sheen of arousal, her parted lips.

She moaned. Softly. Quietly.
But loud enough.

The door creaked again. Not opening. But not shutting either.

Graham shifted forward.

Vanessa’s hand caught his arm. Stopped him.

She whispered something. He whispered back.

Maddie couldn’t hear — but she could feel the tension. The unspoken battle. Desire pressing against restraint. A couple at war with what they were willing to admit they wanted.

And Maddie?
Maddie was drenched with power.

She sat up again, slowly, and walked toward the door — silent, bare, confident.

She opened it.

And found them both still there.

They didn’t move.

Vanessa met her gaze. Eyes sharp, unreadable. Breathing uneven.

Graham’s chest rose and fell — the muscle in his jaw twitching.

Maddie stood there for a long, breathless second, her bare thigh brushing the frame, her camisole half-fallen off one shoulder. She looked from Vanessa…to Graham…then back again.

And she smiled.

“Enjoying the view?”

Neither spoke.

So Maddie reached forward — and with the softest touch — pushed the door gently shut.

Not with anger. Not with rejection.
Just…playfully. Almost like a kiss.

And then, from the other side, she heard a soft laugh. Vanessa’s.

Low. Surprised. A little wicked.

And then silence.

They were gone.

Maddie turned and pressed her back to the door, heart pounding, lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile.

This wasn’t a job.

This was the beginning.

Maddie’s Page