Chapter 16

I didn't sleep that night.

Not because of work, not because of stress, but because of him.

Because of what we did.

Because of how far we let it go.

And the worst part?

I still wanted more.

Which meant this had to stop.

Before it ruined us.

So the next day, I called him.

"We need to talk," I said, voice steady.

There was a long pause.

Then, his voice came through the phone—low, unreadable.

"Where?"

Not the office.

Not his apartment.

Not anywhere tainted by what we had done.

"Café on 5th," I said. "The corner booth. Just us."

The moment I saw him walk in, my stomach tightened.

Because this was Cassian.

My friend.

My boss.

The man whose hands I had worshipped for weeks, whose fingers had been inside me just last night.

And now?

We were going to sit down and pretend to be normal.

He slid into the booth across from me, ordering a black coffee without looking at the menu.

I wrapped my hands around my cup, avoiding his gaze at first.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then—finally—he exhaled.

"We have to talk about it."

I nodded, my throat tight. "Yeah."

Silence stretched between us, thick and humiliating.

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, fingers tensing, like this conversation was physically painful for him.

"This is…" he started, but didn't finish.

I swallowed, forcing the words out. "A problem."

His eyes flicked up to mine. "Yeah."

It felt weird to say it out loud.

To admit that what we had been doing wasn't just some harmless stress reliever.

It was a problem.

One that we had let get too far.

One that could destroy everything.

I sighed, rubbing my temple. "We have to stop."

Cassian's jaw tensed.

I could tell he was thinking about it.

Thinking about all the ways he could argue, all the ways he could try to twist this into something we could justify.

But in the end?

He just nodded.

"Yeah," he said, voice rough. "We do."

It felt so final.

Like we had just put the last nail in a coffin we built together.

But it had to happen.

Because this?

This would only cause hardship.

We sat in silence, both of us knowing we had made the right decision.

Even if it didn't feel like it.

Sienna's POV

The coffee between us had gone cold.

We had made our decision.

We would stop.

We had to.

And yet… we kept talking.

At first, it was awkward, stilted.

Then, like a couple picking at an old wound, we started asking questions.

The What-If Spiral

Cassian leaned back, arms crossed. "What if we had stopped sooner?"

I scoffed. "We wouldn't have stopped."

He smirked. "True."

I played with the rim of my coffee cup. "What if we hadn't done it at all?"

He exhaled, shaking his head. "Then I wouldn't know how fucked in the head you are about hands."

I glared. "Don't start."

He grinned, but it faded quickly. His brows furrowed slightly, fingers tapping against the table. "What if…"

I swallowed. "What?"

His gaze flickered to mine. Serious now. "What if you can't take it?"

Heat crawled up my spine.

I knew exactly what he meant.

He meant—if I caved.

If one day, I lost my mind and came running back, asking for his hands, his touch.

I had just promised to stop.

But now?

Now, I was burning at the thought.

He was watching me.

Like he could see the war happening in my head.

Like he was waiting to see if I'd break.

I forced a swallow. "I—"

Cassian leaned forward slightly, voice lower now. Intentional.

"I'd let you," he murmured.

My breath hitched.

"I wouldn't start it," he continued. "I'd stop myself. But if you asked? If you said you needed it?"

He tapped his fingers on the table once. Twice.

"I'd give it to you."

I burned.

Not just my face—my whole body.

Because the way he said it?

Matter-of-fact. Serious. No teasing. No games.

It wasn't a challenge.

It was a promise.