The air inside the house felt thick, charged with unspoken words and lingering tension. Diana had stormed upstairs the moment they stepped inside, slamming the bedroom door behind her. Mike remained in the living room, running a hand down his face before collapsing onto the couch with a heavy sigh.
Karen watched from the kitchen doorway, her arms crossed over her oversized t-shirt, her bare legs illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp. She tilted her head, studying him.
"Rough night?" she asked, her voice light but laced with something deeper.
Mike exhaled sharply. "Something like that."
Karen stepped forward, slowly closing the distance between them. "I could tell the moment you walked in. The tension was... thick."
He glanced up at her, exhaustion and frustration warring in his gaze. "It always is."
She hummed, stepping around the couch. Instead of sitting next to him, she perched herself on the armrest, her knee brushing his shoulder. "You should relax. Let go a little."
Mike huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Not exactly easy these days."
Karen leaned in slightly, her scent—vanilla and something sweet—filling his senses. "Maybe you just need the right distraction."
He swallowed. "Karen..."
She ignored the warning in his tone, instead stretching her arms above her head, the motion causing her shirt to ride up slightly. It was an innocent movement—except it wasn’t. Not with the way her toned stomach peeked out, not with the way she let out a soft sigh as she settled back down.
Mike clenched his jaw. "You’re playing with fire."
She smirked, finally sliding down onto the couch beside him. "Am I?"
His muscles tensed as she shifted closer, curling her legs beneath her. The fabric of her shorts barely covered anything, and when she stretched her legs out, one foot lightly brushed his thigh.
"Karen..."
She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What? You seem tense. I was just trying to make you comfortable."
He let out a shaky exhale, leaning his head back against the couch. "You have no idea what you’re doing."
She laughed softly, her fingers ghosting over the couch’s fabric near his hand. "Oh, I think I do."
Then, she shifted again, this time bending slightly to grab the remote from the coffee table, fully aware of how her movements put her in his direct line of sight. The curve of her back, the way her shirt slid just enough to reveal smooth skin—she wasn’t being subtle.
Mike gritted his teeth, forcing himself to look away. But she wasn’t done.
"Are you sure you don’t need anything?" she asked, her voice teasing, playful.
Mike shot her a look, his jaw tight. "Karen."
She bit her lip, holding his gaze for just a second longer than necessary. Then, as if nothing had happened, she stood, stretching once more before casually making her way toward the stairs.
"Goodnight, Mr. Adams. Sleep well."
And with that, she disappeared upstairs, leaving him alone—frustrated, heart pounding, and gripping the armrest of the couch with white-knuckled restraint.
Damn it.
This was getting out of hand.
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