The night had a weight to it, a heaviness that pressed against the skin like silk soaked in rain. The city skyline glittered beyond the glass walls of Kai's penthouse, the lights shimmering as though trying to rival the heat burning inside the room.
Naomi stood near the window, one hand loosely holding a glass of wine, her gaze fixed on the world below. She looked untouchable in the dim light, the silk of her slip dress clinging to her in ways that made it impossible to think straight. Every movement she made was deliberate, slow — as if she knew she was being watched and wanted her observer to suffer.
Kai leaned against the edge of his desk, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the sharp definition of his chest. His eyes weren't on the city. They were on her.
"What are you thinking about?" His voice was low, the kind that could unravel composure in a single syllable.
"That depends," she replied without turning to him. "Do you want the truth, or something that won't bruise your ego?"
His mouth curved. "Try me."
She finally faced him, and the look in her eyes was enough to make him straighten. "I'm thinking about the woman you had lunch with today. The one who touched your arm like she owned a piece of you."
Kai's jaw tightened. "You were watching?"
"I don't have to watch. I feel it. Every time another woman looks at you like that, it's as if the air changes." She took a slow step toward him, her wine untouched. "I told you before — I don't share."
He could have denied it. Could have said the woman meant nothing. But the truth was, Naomi didn't need words from him to know the reality. She could read the shadows in his silences.
"I wasn't interested in her," he said, each word measured. "But you… you like to test the leash, don't you?"
Her lips curved, though there was no real humor in it. "Maybe. Or maybe I like to see how far you'll go before you remember who you belong to."
The heat between them was electric now, the kind that didn't burn immediately but built until it consumed everything. She placed the wineglass on his desk, close enough that her fingers brushed his.
"Tell me," she whispered, "what would you do if I decided to walk out that door tonight and not come back?"
His hands slid to her waist, pulling her close until her breath caught. "I'd follow you. And I wouldn't stop until you were back exactly where you are now."
Her pulse skipped — not from fear, but from the undeniable thrill of his certainty. Kai didn't make promises; he made declarations, and every one of them was a chain.
"You're dangerous," she murmured.
"You knew that before you stepped into my life."
Their eyes locked, the kind of stare that felt like a slow war. Somewhere outside, the wind picked up, but inside, the air was still, trapped between the gravity of what they wouldn't say and the pull of what they couldn't resist.
Then, without warning, Naomi turned away from him and walked toward the door.
For a second, Kai thought she was bluffing — until her hand touched the handle. His body moved before his mind caught up, his arm closing around her from behind.
"You really think I'd let you walk away?" His breath was hot against her ear.
She didn't move. "You don't own me, Kai."
"That's where you're wrong." He turned her around, pinning her gently but firmly against the door. "From the moment you looked at me like you wanted to set me on fire, you became mine."
Her heart hammered against her ribs, not because of the trap, but because she realized she didn't actually want to escape it.
Naomi's gaze dropped briefly to his mouth, then back to his eyes. "If I'm yours," she said softly, "then prove it."
He didn't need a second invitation. His lips crashed onto hers with a force that blurred the line between possession and desperation. One hand tangled in her hair, the other gripped her hip, pulling her flush against him. She met his intensity, matching every demanding stroke of his mouth with her own.
The kiss broke only when air became a necessity. Foreheads pressed together, breaths uneven, they stood in the kind of silence that was more intimate than words.
"Still think you want to leave?" he asked.
She smirked, though her voice was low. "Ask me in the morning."