The first thing I felt was heat.
Not the gentle kind that made you want to stay curled in bed, but something heavier, thicker — like the air itself had weight.
The second thing I felt was him.
Sebastian was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching me. His shirt was gone, the sheet low across his hips, his eyes that impossible shade of storm-dark and unreadable.
"Morning," I croaked, my voice still raspy with sleep.
"Good morning, Mrs. Velez" he said slowly, like he was tasting the words. "Did you sleep well?"
"I… think so."
"You think?" His hand reached out, fingers brushing my collarbone, slow enough that I felt every millimeter of contact. "You look like you dreamed."
My heart skipped. "I don't remember."
"I do." His voice was softer now, almost indulgent. "You said my name."
I sat up, heat rushing to my cheeks. "I did not—"
He moved in, cutting off my protest, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, holding me still. Not hard — just enough to make it clear who had the leverage here.
"You did," he murmured, his mouth close enough to mine that I could feel the faint brush of his breath. "And I liked it."
I swallowed hard. "What do you want from me, Sebastian?"
He smiled, slow and wolfish. "Honesty. But I'll settle for obedience until you're ready to give me the rest."
He sat back, watching me with that same unnerving patience he'd shown last night. "Get up."
"Why?"
"Because we're going out. And because I want to see you in something I've chosen."
I hesitated just long enough for his eyes to sharpen.
"You remember what I told you last night?" His tone wasn't loud, but it cut through the morning quiet like a blade.
"That you set the pace," I said.
"Good." His gaze dipped deliberately to the edge of the sheet where my bare leg peeked through. "Now let's see if you can keep up."
The closet was bigger than my old apartment. Floor-to-ceiling racks of designer clothing, every item perfectly spaced, like a luxury boutique.
Sebastian followed me in, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "The black dress. Second row."
I found it — a fitted slip dress that looked like it had been made to reveal more than it covered. "This?"
"That." He didn't even blink.
"And if I say no?" I asked again, testing him.
He moved so fast I barely had time to register it — one moment across the room, the next in front of me, his hand braced against the wall beside my head.
"Then I make it a rule," he said softly. "And you know what happens when you break my rules."
My pulse stumbled. "What happens?"
His mouth curved in something that wasn't quite a smile. "You find out what I'm willing to do to make you listen."
I wore the dress.
Breakfast was in the penthouse's dining area — floor-to-ceiling windows, sunlight spilling in, the city stretching below. The food was perfect, but I barely tasted it. Sebastian's presence across the table was like gravity, pulling every thought in my head toward him.
He didn't speak much, just watched me. Every time my fork lifted, his eyes tracked it. Every time I shifted in my seat, his gaze followed.
It was maddening.
Finally, I set my fork down. "Are you going to keep staring at me all day?"
"Yes," he said simply.
I blinked. "Why?"
"Because I can."
When we were done, he came around the table and took my hand — not gently, but not roughly either. Just enough to make sure I knew I wasn't about to argue.
He led me back to the bedroom, closing the door behind us with a soft click.
"Last night," he said, "I let you keep your distance. I gave you space to get used to me."
I nodded slowly, not trusting my voice.
"This morning," he continued, stepping closer until my back found the wall, "I'm taking some of that space back."
The air between us tightened. My chest rose and fell faster.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
His hand slid to my waist, fingers splaying, holding me there. "It means you're going to stop pretending you don't want me. You're going to look at me, and you're going to admit what I already know."
I shook my head, but the denial was weak, my breath unsteady.
He leaned in, his mouth near my ear, his voice a low murmur that made my knees threaten to give. "Say it, Ocean.... Say you feel it."
"I…" My voice caught.
"You," he pressed, "are mine. And you feel it. Here." His hand moved up, flattening against my chest where my heart was pounding.
My head dropped back against the wall. "Yes," I whispered before I could stop myself.
His eyes flared, dark and hungry. "Good girl."
But instead of kissing me, he stepped back.
The sudden distance made my body ache in a way I didn't want to name.
"That's enough for now," he said, his voice smooth again. "We'll keep testing your limits. One day, you'll stop calling them limits at all."
And just like that, he walked out, leaving me standing against the wall, breathless, shaken… and more entangled in him than I had been last night.