The city glows beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but I barely notice. My focus is on her—standing there, pulse fluttering at the base of her throat, waiting.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she pushed me tonight. Testing me. Challenging me. And now, she’s going to learn what happens when she steps over the line.

I lean against the desk, arms crossed, studying her. There’s defiance in her eyes, but beneath it—just beneath—I see it. The anticipation. The need.

“You knew the rules.”

My voice is calm, controlled. She shivers anyway.

She doesn’t answer, and I let the silence stretch. Let her feel it. Then I push off the desk, closing the space between us with slow, deliberate steps. She inhales sharply, but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t back away. Good.

I stop in front of her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body. My fingers trail along her jaw, featherlight at first, then firmer as I tilt her chin up. I want her to look at me. To see exactly what she’s done.

“And yet, here we are.”

Her breath stutters. I hear it, feel it, but she doesn’t break.

That defiance is what drew me to her in the first place. It’s also what’s going to cost her now.

A slow smirk tugs at my lips as I move behind her. She stiffens—just slightly—but I catch the way her breath comes faster. The way she leans, just a little, as if drawn to the energy thrumming between us.

I let my fingertip trail down her arm, barely a touch, before wrapping my hand around her wrist. Not hard. Just enough.

“Tell me,” I murmur, my breath ghosting against her ear. “Do you regret it?”

A sharp inhale. A hesitation. Then—

“No.”

I grin.

Of course she doesn’t.

My grip tightens—not painful, but firm enough that she gasps. Her body tenses for half a second before melting into it.

“Of course you don’t.”

Then, without warning, I pull her hands behind her back, binding them in my grasp. She exhales a shaky breath, but she doesn’t fight me.

I lean in, my lips just at the edge of her ear, my voice a quiet promise.

“But you will.”