The apartment was silent, except for Grayson's uneven breaths. Vivienne had disappeared upstairs, leaving him standing in the living room, every muscle tense, every thought consumed by her.
He wanted her. Badly. Every fiber of him ached, and the memory of her fleeing after his whispered words — "my wife" — tormented him. He paced, circling the room, replaying the moment over and over.
When she finally came down, she looked tentative, careful, yet undeniably beautiful. The faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her awareness of him.
Grayson closed the distance between them before she could retreat. He captured her hand lightly, fingers brushing hers, lingering just long enough to make her pulse spike.
"Vivienne…" His voice was low, urgent, almost a growl. "I can't… I can't stop thinking about you. About this — about us."
Her lips parted, heart hammering, and she tried to pull back. "Grayson… we shouldn't…"
But he was relentless. Carefully, deliberately, he leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face, fingers tracing the line of her jaw. His eyes bore into hers, dark and intense, full of desire and need.
She shivered under his gaze, torn between resisting and giving in. He moved closer, lips just inches from hers, breath warm, his hand lightly pressing against her back.
"You're mine," he whispered, voice husky, low enough for only her to hear. "And no one else… will ever have you."
Vivienne froze. The words hit harder than any touch could. She tried to pull away, trembling, but his presence pinned her, his heat and intensity wrapping around her like a vice.
Her resolve wavered. She wanted to run, but her body betrayed her, leaning slightly closer despite herself. He pressed a finger to her lips, stopping her, just barely holding back the kiss that simmered between them.
And just before the space between them closed completely, before the first kiss could ignite, she whispered, almost a plea, "I… I can't…"
Grayson's eyes darkened with frustration and need, but he didn't push. Instead, he let her go — barely — as Vivienne backed toward the stairs, heart pounding, cheeks burning, leaving him standing there, every nerve alight, desperate and frustrated.
He watched her disappear into her room, knowing she had no idea how close she had come to crossing a line. And the thought of her — his wife, his obsession — only made him ache for more.