I peer through the darkness, following the shadow as it picks its way closer to the house. My breath catches. I know those movements. I know every step, every bend of the knee, every sway of her body. It’s Carina.

What the fuck is she doing?

Instead of standing here gawking, I slip out of the house, along the darkened edge of the pool, and into the big house’s back entrance. I make it to Carina’s room in record time–it helps that I could walk to her room blindfolded.

When I sit in the chair across from her window, I settle into the shadows and wait. I don’t have to wait long.

Her shadow falls along the window pane, and then her gloved hands grip it and shove it up. She steps into her room, then turns and closes the window quickly and quietly.

Once it’s done, her shoulders drop, the tension in her fading as she strips off her gloves, then reaches down and grips the hem of her black hoodie.

My heart begins to pound, my mind going back to that hive of bees. I should say something. After all, I came up here to catch her, nothing more.

But as she begins to pull her hoodie over her head, I make no move. I only watch, my blood heating as she tosses it aside and turns toward me. She’s wearing a tight white tank top, no bra underneath. Her hard nipples poke through the fabric, and my mouth waters as she bends down and shucks off her black pants and socks.

Her panties are bright pink and high on the sides. When she turns again and double checks the window, I see it’s a thong. Her ass is on full display, the roundness of it making my hard cock ache.

“Locked. Safe. Not busted.” She sighs and reaches up, releasing her hair from her black elastic. The strands fall around her shoulders in a waterfall of beauty, and I want to know what it would look like wrapped around my fist. “Mischief managed.” She turns and strides into her bathroom, the light clicking on and almost illuminating me, but not quite. I’m still in the shadows, still with a view of her as she brushes her teeth.

I should’ve already sprung the trap on her, should’ve scolded her until she told me what the hell she was doing out of the house this late at night. From the looks of it, she’s done this before. How have I missed it? How has the security footage not given her away? These and a million other questions burn inside me, not the least of which is: Did you sneak out to meet another man? That thought has me gripping the arms of the chair so hard one of them creaks.

She stills, her head turned slightly to the side for a moment.