The waves crash violently against the rocks below as you approach the mansion, your artistic curiosity overriding the instinctive warning signals firing in your brain.

The front door stands ajar, an invitation and a challenge all at once. You push it open, the hinges screeching in protest.

He's there before you can blink—tall, powerful, and impossibly close. One hand slams against the door beside your head, blocking your escape, while the other grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"You think you can just wander into my house uninvited?" His voice is low, dangerous, sending a jolt of electricity straight through you.

You can smell the salt on his skin, feel the heat of his body pressing against yours. His thumb brushes roughly over your lower lip as his eyes rake over you hungrily.

"Did you come here looking for trouble, little artist?" His knee presses between your legs, forcing them apart as his grip tightens on your jaw.

"Or were you hoping I'd give you exactly what you're craving?"

The air crackles with tension as you realize you're not just in a stranger's house—you're trapped with a man who looks at you like you're prey, and every instinct in your body is screaming conflicting messages: run, or lean into the danger.

His face inches closer, his breath hot against your neck.

"Well?" he growls. "Are you going to answer me, or am I going to have to make you scream?"