The plush lounge smelled faintly of lavender and spilled prosecco.
Velvet love seats, blushing in burgundy and blush, were arranged in lazy clusters around low tables draped in satin. The lighting was soft, moody, a faint pink glow curling across the white bar like a sunset filtered through rose-colored sin. The kind of space meant for whispers and champagne kisses—not confrontations. Not clarity.
Which suited Ryan perfectly.
He guided Luna in with a hand on the small of his back, like a secret he meant to keep close. The door clicked behind them, locked with a snap of finality. Luna barely had time to register the shift in atmosphere before Ryan's lips were on his again—hot, demanding, full of everything he'd been holding back since they'd left the scaffolds behind.
Luna gasped, staggering back against the nearest love seat, and Ryan followed, pressing him down into the velvet with a kind of worship that was anything but gentle.
"Ryan—" Luna tried, voice cracking between kisses. "Wait. Luka—he might be—"
Ryan only grinned against his mouth, the kind of grin that promised and threatened pleasure a the same.
"Clint's got him," Ryan murmured, grazing his teeth along Luna's jaw. "Trust me. Your cousin's in no rush to find you."
Luna shivered. "But—"
"I'll take you home myself," Ryan whispered, his words a breath against Luna's throat, each syllable a matchstrike on bare skin. "Later. After I've had you to myself for just a little longer."
Fingers slid under Luna's jacket, tugging it down, and Ryan kissed him again—deeper, hungrier. One knee found the seat between Luna's thighs, and the way their bodies aligned made Luna arch with a breathless whimper.
"You feel that?" Ryan growled, voice low and coaxing like a bass drop. "That's what you do to me. Every time you look at me like you're not already mine."
Luna melted. His protests evaporated beneath the touch of Ryan's hands—one cradling his cheek like porcelain, the other roaming with purpose, learning the shape of want beneath his shirt.
The room spun gently around them, a velvet-wrapped stage for a play that had been rehearsing in the shadows for far too long.
And this time, Luna didn't stop him.