With my old clothes slung over my shoulder, I knocked on the apartment door, the adrenaline from the gala still thrumming in my veins. The door swung open, and fuck. There was Kim, her blue dress hugging every curve—sleeveless, tight at the waist, shimmering like sapphire, dipping low to tease her cleavage, her short brown hair framing her mischievous eyes. She looked like a goddamn model, leaning against the doorframe, one hip cocked.
"It's eleven," Kim said, her voice playful, a smirk tugging her lips. "And I didn't sleep."
I grinned, stepping closer, the tuxedo feeling stiff but right. "That you didn't. Good job."
"I have a surprise for you," she said, her tone low, dripping with promise.
"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, my pulse quickening.
