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The clip is short, grainy, and soundless. Gareth isn’t visible, tucked in the seat as I climbed on top of him. That was after he called his car, Medusa, his “baby” again. Irrational jealousy over a car—how fucking absurd. The memory is vivid, sharper than the video. The surprised grunt he let out when I shoved him back. The mischievous sparkle in his green eyes. Those damn dimples creasing his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around me. “Am I going to be punished, Professor?” His voice had been a low, rough murmur, heavy with arousal. I see it in the clip—our bodies pressed together, his mouth beneath mine. Even soundless, I can almost hear him, feel the rasp of his breaths against my skin. “K-Kayde…more…fuck yes…” I can still feel the way his muscles softened beneath my hands, his heartbeat thundering against mine, and his ears turning red. The small, needy noises he only ever makes for me. The ghost of his scent fills my senses, and I’m instantly hard, the ache sharp and all-consuming.