They stepped out of the restaurant into the night air, the city humming around them. Angel walked ahead with her hands in her jacket pockets, throwing a little glance over her shoulder every few steps—like she was making sure he was still following, even though she knew damn well he was.

The hotel sat three blocks away, tall enough to ignore the street noise and lit with warm gold panels that made it look richer than anything inside it. Angel walked through the revolving doors first, chin up, like she'd done this a hundred times. Xavier followed her into the marble-floored lobby where everything smelled faintly of polished wood and money.

Angel didn't slow down. She headed straight for the reception desk.

"One suite," she said. "Top floor."

The man behind the counter nodded fast, typing like she'd just handed him a badge instead of a request. He gave them the access card with both hands, almost bowing.

Angel smirked. "Told you. I've got connections everywhere."

Xavier let out a low hum. "Yeah. I'm noticing."

They walked toward the elevators. Angel tapped the card against the scanner and the doors slid open. Inside, the lift was quiet, lined with dark mirrors and soft bench seats meant to make people feel richer than they were.

Angel stepped in first and leaned against the side wall, her eyes drifting over Xavier in that slow, measuring way she had. He stayed by the doors, watching her like she was the only thing alive in the glass box.

"What?" she asked, pushing a thumb against the button for the top floor.

"You're acting like you don't know what's coming."

Angel let out a small laugh through her nose. "I know exactly what's coming."

Then she tilted her head, teasing. "Question is—are you ready for it?"

It was at that moment when Xavier decided that he was going to fuck her so roughly that all her cheekiness would vanish. But then again, she enjoyed that rough treatment from Xavier.

The elevator rose smooth and quiet. Angel pushed off the wall and closed the distance between them, hooking a finger into the collar of his shirt to pull him down toward her height.

"You kept talking big at dinner," she said. "I'm curious if you can back it up."

It seemed as though she was trying to provoke Xavier on purpose.

The door opened before he could answer.

He didn't move to exit. He just looked down at her and said, "You're going to confess everything tonight."

"Sure," she said, brushing past him into the hallway. "If you can pull it out of me."

The suite waited at the end—double doors, gold handles, a quiet strip of light underneath that made the whole hallway feel warmer. Angel tapped the access card and pushed one side open, stepping in without hesitation.

Xavier followed her.

The suite was huge. Bigger than the apartment Xavier actually lived in. One long couch. A wide balcony. A bed large enough it looked made for five-star sins and nothing else.

Angel tossed her jacket on a chair and turned toward him, her hair falling over one shoulder. The air in the room shifted the moment she looked at him—no teasing now, just charged expectation.

"So," she said, walking backward toward the bed, almost daring him to catch her. "You said you had the perfect way to make me talk."

Xavier locked the door behind him and started toward her.

"You already know," he said.

Angel sat on the edge of the bed and let her knees fall open just a bit, enough to show she wasn't planning on resisting anything tonight.

"Then show me," she whispered. "Go ahead. Make me confess."

And the moment he reached her, the clothes, the restraint, the teasing—every bit of it fell away.

The night didn't start gentle. It didn't pretend to be innocent. Angel pulled him down with both hands, lips hot and hungry, fingers sliding under his shirt like she owned the right to do it. Xavier didn't wait—he grabbed her hips, lifted her higher on the mattress, and the way she gasped his name the first time told him she wasn't going to fight him on anything tonight.

She rolled under him, tugging him down into her, legs hooking around his waist, pulling him as close as she could get. Their mouths crashed together again—breathless, messy, greedy. Angel dragged her nails down his back, making him growl into her throat.

"Confess," he muttered against her skin.

Angel laughed once, breath catching, eyes wild. "Make me."

So he did.

He took his time with her—hands on her waist, his mouth on her neck, down her chest, down her stomach—pulling every sound he wanted out of her body. Angel broke faster than she expected. The moment he pushed her knees apart and dropped lower, her fingers curled tight in his hair and she let out a sharp moan of his name, the kind she couldn't take back even if she tried.

Xavier looked up at her from between her thighs, breathing against her, voice low and rough.

"That's one."

Angel didn't even try to glare. She just arched into his mouth, losing the fight she pretended she had.

He pulled another confession out of her.

Then another.

And another.

By the time he finally pulled her up, flipped her onto her knees, and dragged her back against him, Angel couldn't hold any secrets—not with the way he moved, not with the way he grabbed her hips and pulled her onto him, not with the way she broke apart against the sheets.

Her voice cracked when she said his name again—loud, shaking, full.

Xavier leaned over her back, lips near her ear.

"Now talk."

Angel barely caught her breath, her voice rough and strained. "Fine… fine—just keep going—fuck—Xavier—fine—I'll tell you whatever the hell you want—just—don't stop—"

He didn't.

And by the time the night finally cooled and the room went quiet, Angel lay sprawled across the pillows with her hair a mess, her breath uneven, and her body still shaking with the last of it.

Xavier lay beside her, one arm behind his head, watching her try to recover.

Angel didn't look at him.

She just whispered, "You're so good at this."

Then after a long pause—

"…I might actually tell you everything one day."

"Why not today?

"Force it out of me, then."