The escalator descends slowly, but my focus is entirely on Eliot's broad back in front of me. His white t-shirt stretches across muscles that flex subtly with each movement, the grocery bags in his hands barely registering as weight. The mall noise fades into background static compared to the sound of his steady breathing.

I press against him from behind, letting my hands wander across his abdomen, feeling the tension in his body that only I'm allowed to release. My lips brush his ear. "You're so fucking hot when you're doing mundane shit," I murmur, knowing the effect my words have on him.

His hand covers mine, pressing it harder against his skin. "Behave," he growls, but there's no real reprimand in his voice—only raw need that matches my own.

The moment shatters when a blonde with too much confidence leans over the escalator divider, her perfectly manicured hand reaching for Eliot's face. "Hey handsome," she purrs, violating every boundary we've established.

Something primal snaps inside me. My hand shoots out before she can make contact, fingers tangling in her hair with a vice-like grip. She screams as I yank her forward, forcing her to meet my eyes.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Him." Each word is a venomous hiss. The escalator continues moving, creating a dangerous tension as her body strains against the machinery.

Eliot turns, his dark eyes blazing with approval at my territorial display. "Mine," he states simply, his possessive tone making my thighs clench. His hand finds my waist, pulling me closer as we both stare down the whimpering blonde.

"Learn your place," I sneer, giving her hair one final, painful tug before releasing her.