C U At 9 Hot Scene File

It’s 9:01.

He’s leaning against the frame, sleeves rolled to his elbows, jaw tight. She’s inside, backlit by the neon haze, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and the kind of look that ruins self-control. C U At 9 Hot Scene

He steps closer. Close enough to feel her warmth. “You texted ‘C U at 9.’ That’s an invitation, not a suggestion.” It’s 9:01

She reaches out, fingers tracing his belt loop, pulling him the last inch. “Maybe I wanted to see if you’d show.” sleeves rolled to his elbows