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The heavy, sun-drenched air of Seville did little to cool the restless heat burning under Colin Bridgerton’s skin. Sitting at an outdoor café table with a half-finished espresso and a notebook full of abandoned travel sketches, he lazily pulled out his phone to check Instagram.
That was his first mistake.
A notification popped up at the top of his screen: penelope.featherington posted a new reel.
Curious, Colin tapped it. The screen flashed to life, revealing a brightly lit dance studio in London. Penelope stood front and center, wearing form-fitting neon biker shorts and a cropped athletic tank. Before he could even process what she was doing, the beat dropped, and she executed a sharp, fluid hip roll straight into the camera lens.
Colin froze, his coffee cup hovering halfway to his mouth. Penelope? Quiet, bookish, sweet Penelope Featherington was dancing—and she was moving with a fierce, hypnotic confidence that made his breath catch in his throat.
That single, innocent video opened Pandora's box.
Over the next three months, while Colin traveled through Spain and parts of Italy, his algorithm was entirely, irrevocably hijacked. Every few days, a new torture device landed in his feed. Penelope, dropping low to reggaeton beats. Penelope, isolating her hips with effortless precision, flashing that bright, secret-keeping smile that felt entirely directed at him across thousands of miles.
He bit through pen caps in hotel rooms. He paced holes into hardwood floors. He took entirely too many cold showers under foreign suns. She was running round and round in his head, completely ruining his travels, his sleep, and his self-control.
By the time Colin finally packed his bags and flew back to London, he was a complete mess, his obsession reaching a fever dream high.
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It was late Friday evening when he sat alone in his flat, his thumb mindlessly scrolling. Then, the notification banner dropped down: penelope.featherington posted a new reel.
He tapped it. The heavy, infectious dancehall bassline of Shaggy and Akon’s "Boom Body" slammed through his speakers.
On screen, Penelope stood with her back to the camera during the intro. As the beat dropped, she spun around, her curls bouncing, her face flushed with sweat.
The lyrics hit him like a physical blow, mapping out every single obsessive thought that had been keeping him awake in foreign hotel beds
Colin let out a rough, shaky breath. Baddie? She was a goddess. A vision wrapped in teal spandex and pure sin.
“Shawty, she's a baddie, she's a keeper...”🎶
Penelope dropped into a deep, fluid body roll, her hands tracing the outline of her waist. Colin’s hands tightened around his phone until his knuckles turned stark white.
“That is why I never wanna leave her...”🎶
I’m never leaving, his mind supplied instantly, a dark, possessive certainty settling deep into his bones. He didn't want to travel anymore. He didn't want architecture sketches or historic cathedrals. He wanted to anchor himself to her side, her room, her bed, permanently.
Colin could swear she was smirking her mean lips just at him through the screen.
She be runnin' round in my head, she be doin' things in my bed, black magic...”🎶
Colin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Black magic was right. She was haunting him.
He closed his eyes for a second, but the visual of her—the way her hands traced the outline of her waist before sliding down her thighs—was burned into the back of his eyelids.
And then, the chorus exploded through his headphones, driving the final nail into the coffin of his self-control:
“Boom Body (bad gyal ah) / Boom Body / She got a Boom Body...”🎶
On screen, Penelope turned sideways to the camera, accentuating the devastating curve of her hips and the round, perfect swell of her backside as she hit every single beat with sharp, explosive precision. Her assets moved like liquid fire, uninhibited and fierce ompletely unaware of the absolute ruin she was causing him.
“Goddess and a baddie...”
Colin stared at the screen until the video looped back to the beginning. His pulse was hammering in his ears. Everything went silent as he swallowed his dry throat ,the red-hot haze of lust suddenly parting to reveal something far more terrifying, far more permanent beneath it.
It wasn't just desire anymore. It was a fierce, consuming realization that he was entirely, irrevocably gone for her.
Snap.
That was it. The dam broke.
Colin didn't bother grabbing a jacket. He threw on his shoes, vaulted down the stairs of his building, and drove over to Penelope’s place with a reckless speed that bordered on criminal.
When he hammered on her door, the sound was loud enough to wake the dead.
The lock clicked, and the door swung open to reveal Penelope in the exact same teal athletic set from the video, her curls slightly damp, looking flushed and utterly bewildered. "Colin? What on earth are you—"
She didn't get to finish. Colin cut her off hurriedly asked May i come in?
Penelope nodded but was very skeptical and worried
He pushed past her, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel. His hair was messy, his chest was heaving, and his eyes were dark, dilated, and burning with an intensity that made her step back.
"Colin, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost," she breathed, her heart suddenly hammering against her ribs for an entirely different reason.
"A ghost?" he laughed, a harsh, breathless sound. He closed the distance between them, trapping her gently against the hallway wall, his hands flat on the surface on either side of her shoulders. "Penelope, do you have any idea what you are doing to me?"
Her breath caught. "What?"
"Instagram," he panted, his gaze dropping fiercely to her mouth before rising back to lock with her wide blue eyes. "For three months, starting all the way back in Spain while I watched you through a glowing screen. Three agonizing, torturous months of watching you shake your hips and drop low to every damn track ever recorded..."
Penelope’s cheeks flushed a violent, beautiful crimson. "You... you've been watching my reels?"
"Every single one," he confessed, his voice dropping to a rough, ragged register. "I tried not to. I told myself I was a gentleman. But then you post that one tonight. The bassline, the body rolls, moving like fire..."
He groaned, resting his forehead against the wall right beside her ear, his body radiating heat.
"I can't take it anymore, Pen. I’m losing my mind. I don't care about being your safe, platonic friend. I want you. I want all of you." He pulled back slightly, his dark gaze locking onto hers with sudden, fierce urgency. His chest rose and dropped heavily as he fought for control, his hands trembling slightly where they rested against the wall. "Can I kiss you, Penelope?
Penelope stared at her best friend turned tormentor, her breath hitching. The shock in her eyes melted swiftly into a wicked, knowing spark. A slow, dangerous smile curved her lips.
Instead of answering right away, she tilted her chin up, a sudden surge of bold confidence taking over. Her hands slid up his chest, her fingers curling into the lapels of his jacket, and she pulled him down the final inch until their lips were a mere breath apart.
"Took you long enough to notice, Bridgerton," she whispered against his mouth, her voice dripping with a sultry, devastating assurance. "And for the record... a very tiny, wicked part of me was dancing for you the entire time."
With a breathless, deliberate groan, Penelope closed the gap, initiating the kiss with a fierce, demanding hunger that completely unspooled what was left of his restraint.
That was all the permission he needed.
Colin let out a raw growl, his hands instantly dropping to grip the warm, tapered curve of her waist before hauling her effortlessly upward. Penelope gasped into the kiss, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he crushed her against the hallway wall.
He carried her down the hall toward her bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them. By the time they reached the bed, he was practically shaking with need. He laid her back against the mattress, following her down so his heavy, broad frame trapped her completely.
"For three months," Colin muttered, pressing fierce, damp kisses across her cheek, her jaw, down to the exposed skin of her collarbone where her tank top dipped low, "I've watched you on that damn screen. Moving for everyone. Shaking your hips for the whole internet."
Penelope arched her back instinctively as his mouth grazed her skin, a soft whimper escaping her lips. "Colin... for me it was forever"
"forever" he growled against her skin, his hand sliding under the hem of her athletic top, scorching her bare ribs. "You are driving me completely out of my mind, Penelope."
With trembling fingers, he hooked his thumbs under the hem of her top and hauled it up and over her head. His dark, dilated eyes dropped down to her chest with a raw, unadulterated reverence.
He didn't waste another second. Colin lowered his mouth, capturing one heavy, responsive crest between his lips while his thumb dragged circles against the other. Penelope cried out, her back bowing off the mattress, her fingers tangling frantically in his hair.
Colin pulled back, his chest heaving as he looked down into her hazy, flushed face. His hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing a stray curl away. "Pen, look at me," he murmured, his voice thick with care beneath the raw lust. "Are you sure? Do you want this? Tell me."
Penelope’s hands came up to grip his wrists, her blue eyes shining with absolute certainty. "I am sure. I want you, Colin."
"I want you, Penelope!" he breathed out, pressing a fierce, reverent kiss to her lips before trailing down her jaw.
His hands dropped to the waistband of her tight spandex shorts, his thumbs hooking underneath the elastic. "Can I take these off?" he asked, pausing to check in with her again, his eyes searching hers.
"Yes," she whispered, lifting her hips to help him.
With a slow, deliberate slide, Colin stripped the spandex down her legs, leaving her completely bare beneath him. He positioned himself between her thighs, his own body aching and burning, but before he moved any further, he pulled back for a fraction of a second, his hands steadying himself as he reached into his pocket.
"I have protection," he murmured, his gaze holding hers intently, making sure she was completely with him every step of the way. "Is that alright?" he never wants to be disrespectful to her even when his body says a different story.
Penelope let out a soft, breathless laugh, pulling him down by the lapels of his shirt so their lips brushed. "Yes, Colin. Please."
Working quickly and efficiently while keeping his eyes locked with hers, he took care of it, making sure everything was safe before he settled between her parted thighs. Penelope wrapped her legs around his waist, her hips rolling up to meet his as he pressed forward.
When he finally pushed into her heat, a ragged groan ripped from Colin’s throat at how tight and wet she felt around him. Penelope gasped, her fingernails digging deep into the muscles of his back, anchoring him to her as the world narrowed down to just the friction of their bodies colliding.
"Colin... oh, God, Colin," she chanted, her voice breaking as he began to move.
It wasn't gentle. It was fast, heavy, and driven by months of pent-up obsession. Every thrust was deep and punishingly good. Colin kept his gaze locked with hers, his hands gripping her hips so tightly he knew there would be bruises tomorrow—bruises he would gladly kiss away.
The rhythm built, fast and frantic. Penelope’s breathing turned into ragged pants, her hips bucking up to meet every single one of his drives.
"Look at me, Pen, stay with me," Colin panted, his own control fracturing under the tight, rhythmic clenching of her inner muscles around him. "Are you close? Can I come with you?"
"Yes—together, Colin, please," she gasped out.
The words shattered whatever restraint he had left. A sharp, violent wave of pleasure crested over Penelope, tearing a loud, breathless cry from her lips as her whole body locked up, her inner walls spasmed tightly around him
Colin let out a raw, guttural shout, burying himself as deep as he possibly could as he spilled into her, riding out the powerful climax that left them both utterly breathless and completely undone.
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Epilogue...
Two months later, the Mayfair community center's Tuesday night Zumba class was in full swing.
Penelope was front and center, laughing as she bounced to the rhythm of a fast-paced track. But she wasn't alone. Right behind her, looking entirely out of place in a crisp athletic t-shirt, was Colin.
He still didn't know the choreography. In fact, he had two left feet and the rhythm of a confused golden retriever. But that wasn't why he was there.
As the instructor shouted a new move that required a lot of hip isolation and backward leaning, Colin stepped directly behind Penelope, planting his broad frame firmly in her path. He wrapped his arms securely around her waist, using his own body as a literal shield to block the view of the rest of the class—and the mirrors—so that nobody else could catch a glimpse of her while she shot the promotional reel.
"Colin, I can't do the grapevine step if you're standing like a human barricade," Penelope giggled against his chest, trying to shimmy around him while keeping her phone propped up on a tripod a few feet away.
"Good. You don't need to grapevine. You need to stay right here where you belong," he murmured into her curls, pressing a quick, smoldering kiss to her temple.
"Mr. Bridgerton! Miss Featherington!"
The class's ZIN leader, a fierce woman named Maria, marched up to them, hands on her hips, glaring at Colin.
"This is a Zumba fitness class, not a public park, and certainly not a wrestling match! Stop shielding your girlfriend like she's a state secret and move your feet to the beat, or get out of my studio!"
Colin didn't even flinch. He just flashed Maria a devastating, unapologetic Bridgerton grin, his hands remaining firmly locked around Penelope’s waist.
"With all due respect, instructor," Colin called out smoothly over the blaring music, pulling Penelope just a fraction closer as the bass dropped again, "her assets are classified property. I'm just enforcing perimeter security."
Penelope dissolved into helpless laughter against his chest, and as Maria threw her hands up in defeat and walked away muttering under her breath, Colin dipped his head down, claiming Penelope's lips right there in the middle of the dance floor, completely unbothered by the cheering students around them.
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