“Hi, Mrs. Kravitz,” Caleb says, smiling awkwardly.

“Hello, dear. You two having a good night?” she asks, shuffling in with her tiny Shih Tzu.

We sneak past her.

Caleb pinches my ass as he passes.

“Just the best,” I laugh. “Night!” he calls back.

“Night, dear,” she replies as the elevator doors close. Right before the doors close, Caleb smacks my ass so loudly, I’m sure she must’ve heard the crack.

“You little shit,” I laugh, chasing after him. He glances back, laughing, trying to dodge me, but I catch up easily, wrapping my arm around his neck and pulling him in.

“Making me look bad in front of Mrs. Kravitz?” I laugh, poking his sides.

“No!” he yelps, struggling, but I’ve got the upper hand this time. It feels so damn good seeing him tangled up beneath me, helpless.

My dick likes it too. Fuck.

Thankfully, we must’ve reached his door because he stops resisting.

I let go, still laughing, as he shuffles his keys, looking for the right one.

“I could’ve taken you down back there if I really wanted to,” he says, unlocking the door.

“I’d like to see you try,” I challenge. He shoots me a look, heat simmering behind his eyes. My dick twitches.

He opens the door and tilts his head for me to go first.

I step inside and glance around as he flicks on the light. Of course his place is gorgeous—we’re in the Upper East Side. It’s spacious, well-lit, full of style and personality. A far cry from my cramped one-bedroom flat on the opposite side of the city, where my kitchen, dining room, and bedroom all share the same square footage.

Yeah, his place is amazing.

“Nice place,” I say, eyeing the magazines spread out on the kitchen island.

“It does its job.” He sets his helmet on the counter, and I do the same. “I’m probably moving in a few months,” he adds with a sigh.

“What? Where? Why?” I ask, heart racing.

He chuckles. “Not far. Just getting my own place.”

“Something happen with Tony?” I sit on a barstool.

“No, nothing like that. I’ll just need something a little smaller. I… sort of quit my job,” Caleb says, running a hand through his hair as he walks to the fridge. “Drink?”

“Please.” I nod, leaning on the counter, waiting for more.

He pulls out vodka and Sprite, and I smile at his go-to combo.

“I’ve always done everything to make my dad happy,” he says while grabbing two rocks glasses and dropping in some ice. “But after Toronto, I realized I’ve spent so much of my life under his control, doing what he wants. I’ve barely figured out what I want.” He pours the drinks and hands me mine.

“So… what do you want?” I ask, lifting my glass to my lips. He watches me, deep in thought, before taking a sip of his own.

“I want the freedom to figure it out,” he says with a sigh. “Starting with my job. I was never going to learn how to stand on my own two feet if I kept going the way I was going. Everyone knows it.” He gives a soft smile.