Chapter 162 Hop In Reese Penelope’s car was already gone by the time I walked out to the parking lot, her taillights vanishing into the drizzle. But that didn’t matter. I knew exactly where she lived—and better yet, exactly which route she’d take home. Everything was almost too easy. By the time the night ended, I knew she’d be under me, trembling and breathless, and I’d be right where I wanted to be. I slipped into my car and started the engine, the rhythmic thump of rain against the windshield syncing with my pulse. I didn’t rush. Timing was everything with Penny. If I showed up too soon, she’d suspect something. She wasn’t stupid—she just believed in coincidences a little too much. So I took my time. I let the rain stretch the silence, drumming my fingers on the wheel while the city thinned into long, empty, wet streets. And then—there she was. A flash of headlights reflecting off her car, hazard lights blinking weakly in the rain. She was standing by the roadside, waving both hands. Her hair was damp, her trench coat sticking to her body.Perfect. A smile ghosted across my lips as I slowed to a stop beside her, lowering the window just enough for my voice to reach her. “Did you have a change of mind, baby?” She blinked through the rain, surprised. “Reese? What are you doing here?” I shrugged, casual, like fate itself had tossed me her way. “I stay at a hotel nearby. And this happens to be the only road that leads to it.” Her expression softened. “Oh.” She tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear. “I’ve got a flat tire. I don’t even know how this happened.” I stepped out of the car, glancing down at her tire as the rain spattered against my shoulders. “That’s too bad, Penny. You got a spare?” She shook her head, frustrated. “No. Can you maybe call a mechanic? I really need to get home. I have to prepare for tomorrow. I've got a lot to read up on, Reese.” I looked at my watch. “It’s almost midnight. You think a mechanic’s just hanging around waiting for you to call?” She sighed, exasperated and cold. “This is crazy. My tires were perfectly fine earlier.” Then she looked at me again. “Well, thanks for stopping. I’ll just book a ride. I'll maybe send someone for the car in the morning.” I waved that off with a small laugh, getting back into my car. “Not on my watch. Hop in. I’ll drive you home.” She hesitated, biting her lip. “No. It’s fine, really. You go ahead, I’ll manage.” “Come on,” I said gently. “Don’t be a stranger, Penny. It’s pouring. Get in. I insist.” She stood there, eyes darting between me and the deserted road, calculating. Her fingers toyed with her keys, the struggle playing out right on her face. Then she sighed, defeated. “Okay. Fine.” I exhaled softly, masking my satisfaction with a simple nod. “Good. Grab your things.” She turned back to her car, bending into the driver’s side to reach for her purse. Her coat rode up as she leaned forward, revealing a glimpse of wet, bare thigh that had me gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. I wasn’t even touching her yet, and already she was unraveling my control. “You got everything?” I asked as she returned, shivering slightly.“Yes.” She shut the door and buckled up. “Thank you. And sorry about your seat. I feel so bad at making a mess.” I started the engine. “Nonsense.” I waved her off. “It’s no problem.” “I live at—” I cut her off before she could finish. “I know where you live, Penny.” Her head turned sharply toward me, startled. “You… remember?” I smiled faintly, eyes fixed on the road. “How could I ever forget?” The rest of the drive was quiet, except for the rain and the soft hum of the tires. I could feel her gaze on me, heavy and curious. Every few seconds, when I turned slightly, she’d whip her head away and pretend to stare out the window, cheeks faintly pink. When we reached her street, she pointed to her house. “Right there. You can drop me off.” I stopped the car in front of her house. She gathered her purse and phone, fumbling like her fingers weren’t entirely steady. I didn’t look at her. I scrolled idly on my phone, pretending to be uninterested because I knew her type.The second you stop chasing, they start chasing you. Penny hated being ignored. She always needed to be seen, always needed to know she had my attention—and withholding it was exactly what drew her in. She lingered longer than necessary, pretending to check her bag. Then she slammed the door harder than she had to, a deliberate sound meant to get me to look. So I did. She stood in the rain, chin slightly lifted, hair sticking to her cheeks. “Thanks for the ride,” she said, voice softer than before. I smiled lazily. “Glad I could help.” She nodded, still hovering there. “Good night, Reese.” “Good night, Penny. Break a leg tomorrow.” That made her smile—a real one, small but warm. She turned to leave, then paused. I could almost see the war inside her. Pride versus temptation. I revved the engine gently, preparing to drive off, and that’s when she broke. “Wait!” I looked over. “Did you forget something?”She shook her head, hesitating at my window. “No. I was just wondering if… you’d like to come in for a while.” There it was. The opening. I grinned, all polite restraint. “That’s kind of you, Penny, but it’s really getting late.” She stepped closer, her voice quieter now, almost coaxing. “I know. Which is all the more reason you should come in—have some tea, or coffee, or even just water.” Her fingers gripped the frame of my window as she leaned in closer, knuckles pale. The rain had now completely soaked through her coat, making it cling to every curve. And she was making sure that I was seeing every bit of her. I didn’t need to guess what she really meant. Water, tea, coffee—those were excuses. Her body was the invitation. The only thing on the menu was her. I killed the engine and pocketed my keys, turning to her with a slow smile. “Well,” I said, “how can I resist an offer like that?” Her lips curved slightly, and she stepped back, motioning for me to follow. I got out of the car, shutting the door behind me. The rain had eased into a drizzle now. She led the way up the steps to her porch, fumbling for her keys. Her hands were shaking. Whether from the cold or anticipation—I couldn’t tell, and honestly, I didn’t care. Inside, the house was warm, dimly lit by the gold lamp hanging in the middle of the room. She slipped off her shoes at the door and I did the same. I stood by the door, letting the silence breathe, letting her feel me watching. She turned, catching my gaze. “Coffee?” “Sure,” I said, though I had no intention of drinking it. She disappeared into the kitchen. I glanced around the living room—still neat, still hers. A blanket draped over the couch, a book left open on the table with folders and papers stacked by the side of it, her faint scent clinging to the air. I was almost hit with the feeling of nostalgia. Everything was still the same. I heard the kettle click, and her voice floated out. “You take sugar, right?” “Two,” I said, stepping toward the kitchen doorway. She looked up, startled, her fingers still on the mug. I leaned against the frame, watching her.“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, half-smiling. I tilted my head. “Like what?” “Like you know something I don’t.” “Maybe I do.” Her smile wavered. “You always say things like that. Like you’re two steps ahead.” I pushed off the doorframe and moved closer, close enough that the scent of her shampoo mixed with the coffee’s steam. “Maybe that’s because I am.” She didn’t move. She just stared up at me, wide-eyed, waiting for me to close the space between us. And for a second, I almost did. Almost. But not yet. I needed her to take the first step. Instead, I reached past her, my arm brushing her shoulder, and took the mug from her hand. “Thanks,” I said, my voice low. Her breath hitched. She turned away, pretending to check the kettle again even though it was already off. The silence that followed wasn’t comfortable. It pulsed.I took a sip of the coffee and set the mug down beside her hand. “You really shouldn’t invite strange men into your house this late, Penny.” Her chuckle was shaky. “You’re not a stranger.” “Aren’t I?” That made her glance at me again, searching my face like she wasn’t sure anymore. “Sometimes,” I said softly, “you never really know people until it’s too late.” Her lips parted, but no words came out. I could see it now—the flicker of doubt, the tiny pulse of fear right beneath her curiosity. And that’s what I wanted. Because fear, when mixed with desire, turns electric. I took a step back, forcing her to exhale, forcing the air between us to change again. “You should get some rest,” I said finally. She blinked, surprised. “You’re leaving?” “Yeah. Early morning tomorrow.” “Oh.” She tried to sound casual, but disappointment coated the single syllable. I smiled again, brushing my thumb across the handle of the mug. “Thanks for the coffee.” “Reese…” I turned at the door. “Yeah?” She hesitated. “You could’ve just driven past tonight. You didn’t have to stop.” “I know,” I said simply. “Then why did you?” I smiled. “Because you wanted me to. Good night, Penny,” I said without looking back. Her eyes widened a little, like she wanted to argue but couldn’t. I turned around and opened the door, attempting to step into the soft rain. Keyword: attempting. I never got to step out into the rain because the next moment, Penelope’s lips were on mine.