The water had gone still again. The moon had climbed high. And Maddie, still floating lazily in the warm pool, had long since accepted that whoever had been watching her had disappeared—or so she thought.

She slipped out of the water at last, droplets cascading down the full curve of her hips, her breasts rising with each deep breath. No towel. No robe. Just moonlight on bare skin. She padded across the cool patio tiles and through the open French doors, leaving a glistening trail behind her.

The house was quiet. Deceptively so.

Everyone had said goodnight hours ago. Vanessa had taken Selene and Roman to the guest wing, laughing softly as she led them away. Graham and Lucien had shared a cigar on the back balcony and kissed her goodnight at the stairs.

Maddie had watched Lucien go. Or so she believed.

Now, she drifted back into her bedroom, skin still damp, heart still buzzing from the night. She didn’t bother turning on the lights. She liked the way the shadows kissed the walls. She liked the soft hum still pulsing between her thighs.

She stepped into the center of the room and let her hair loose, her arms rising above her head in a long stretch.

Then—
A sound.

Not the wind. Not the creak of wood.

A breath.

Behind her.

She turned slowly. And there, in the darkest corner of the room, just inside the door… stood him.

Not Graham. Not Lucien. Not Roman.

He hadn’t been introduced. Not properly.

But Maddie remembered seeing him in passing—briefly—early in the evening. A tall, sharply built man in his late 30s. Sandy brown hair, neatly cropped. Gray tailored jacket. He’d arrived with a nod to Graham, stayed only for a drink.

Vanessa had murmured something at the time.
“That’s Caleb’s friend. He’s just dropping in, won’t be staying.”

Apparently, that was a lie.

He stepped out of the shadow now, the moonlight cutting across half his face. His jaw was square. His eyes darker than she remembered. He looked at her the way a man looks at something he knows he shouldn’t touch—but is going to touch anyway.

“You never left,” Maddie whispered.

He said nothing.

“Were you at the pool?”

Still nothing. Just a nod.

Her nipples tightened. Her breath quickened.

“Did you see me?”

A longer pause. Then—“Yes.”

Maddie’s pulse kicked hard.

He stepped closer. Slowly. Predatory. His eyes raked down her wet, naked body, lingering on her breasts, the slight sheen between her thighs. His jacket came off, quietly. Folded. Placed on a nearby chair with precision.

“You knew I was watching,” he said finally. His voice was low. Measured. Rough.

“I didn’t,” she murmured. Then, daring, “But I liked it.”

A sharp glint in his eyes.

“Do you always tease your voyeurs?”

Maddie’s lips curled. “Only the good ones.”

That was all it took.

He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed her—one hand sliding around the back of her neck, the other cupping her bare ass, lifting her against him. His mouth found hers, hungry, urgent. His lips were rougher than Graham’s, firmer than Lucien’s—tasting of whiskey and restraint shattered.

Maddie moaned into his kiss, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, the wet heat of her pressed against his shirt. He backed her toward the bed, every movement deliberate, controlled. She felt the hard ridge of him against her bare center, her breath catching.

He laid her down on the sheets, never breaking eye contact.

Then stood.

Unbuttoned his shirt.

Slowly.

Every movement was a performance, a ritual. He removed his belt without a sound, then unzipped his slacks, letting them fall away. He was lean and muscular, tattoos along one side of his ribcage. His cock hung thick and heavy between his thighs, already swollen, already throbbing.

Maddie reached down between her legs, teasing herself as he watched.

“Tell me your name,” she said, breathless.

He knelt over her, brushing her hand away, replacing it with his own. His fingers were long. Skilled. He stroked her slow, then harder, until she gasped.

“You’ll forget it anyway,” he murmured, and kissed down her body—mouth devouring one breast, then the other, teeth grazing, tongue circling.

Maddie arched, clawing at his shoulders.

He gripped her thighs and spread them wide.

And then he took her.

One hard, deep thrust that made her cry out. He didn’t give her time to adjust. He filled her completely, relentlessly, his hips snapping against hers, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room. She wrapped her legs tighter, pulling him deeper, her fingers tangling in his hair.

She was on fire.

He flipped her without warning—face down, hips up—and slammed into her again from behind. One hand gripped her shoulder, the other pulled her hair back as he thrust harder, deeper, punishingly good. Her cries were muffled into the pillow, her body trembling with every impact.

“You like being watched, Maddie?” he growled into her ear. “You like knowing strangers are jerking off in the bushes while you float around, dripping and begging for it?”

She moaned—“Yes.”

He drove into her faster. Her walls clenched hard.

Then—everything tensed.

She shattered around him, crying out, shaking, coming so hard she saw stars.

He followed with a guttural growl, spilling into her as his arms locked around her waist.

They collapsed onto the bed in a tangled, sweat-slicked heap.

Maddie turned, breathless, chest heaving.

“You said I’d forget your name,” she whispered. “I won’t.”

He kissed her forehead. Soft this time.

“Try.”

And just like that, he stood, gathered his clothes… and left the room.

Maddie lay there, dazed, soaked, and stunned—her body humming, her skin still tingling.

She didn’t even know his name.

But she knew she’d be seeing him again.

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