It was Friday night, and Ava had no intention of going out.
Wrapped in an oversized tee and nothing else, she had wine in one hand and her favorite guilty-pleasure movie queued up. She hadn’t even bothered with pants. Who would see her?
The doorbell rang.
She blinked.
“I didn’t order anything…”
Still, she opened the door.
And there he was. 🚪
Brown eyes. Tousled hair. A little sweat on his temples like he’d biked full speed just to get there. His delivery bag slung low over one shoulder. A slim, toned build under his tight uniform shirt. Muscles you didn’t expect from a guy who brought you pizza.
“Delivery for Ava?” he asked, voice smooth, deep, slightly amused.
She hesitated. “I… didn’t order anything.”
He double-checked. “Ava Summers. Apartment 6B. Extra pepperoni.”
“That’s me,” she said slowly. “But I didn’t—”
“I’ll leave it,” he said with a grin. “On the house, apparently.”
She narrowed her eyes. “This a prank?”
He shrugged, stepping inside just enough for her to smell his cologne — clean, citrusy, with a darker undertone that lingered. “You can call the number on the receipt,” he said. “Or…”
“Or?”
He gave a slow, knowing smile. “Or I stay and make sure the food’s hot enough.” 🔥
Ava crossed her arms, eyebrow arched — suddenly very aware of how thin her shirt was, how her thighs were fully exposed. “You usually offer that kind of… service?”
“Only to beautiful women who forget they’re irresistible,” he said, his voice dipping lower. “And don’t realize their shirt’s practically see-through.” 👀
Her cheeks flushed. But she didn’t move. She liked the way he looked at her — confident, amused, with that mix of charm and danger you only saw in movies.
She stepped aside. “Then come in, Delivery Boy.”
He walked in, setting the box on the table. But neither of them looked at the pizza.
“You got a name?” she asked.
“Jace,” he said, stepping closer.
“Well, Jace,” she whispered, “how do I tip for this kind of delivery?”
He smirked, eyes locked on hers. “Depends. Are we talking cash… or hands-on appreciation?” 😏
She laughed — low, slow, sensual. “I think you’ve earned something… personal.”
Their mouths met before she could say another word. Warm, rough lips. Gentle, then greedy. His hands on her waist. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer.
The pizza sat untouched on the table.
The real heat? Was coming from the two of them. 🔥💋
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