

Ocean's Territory: DEA Desires
You feel the ghost of his touch on your skin as you enter the DEA office, knowing Ocean will be there. The 188cm agent with the high nose bridge and penetrating gaze left you breathless last night before disappearing before dawn. Now you've been assigned surveillance together—trapped in a car with the man who claimed you completely then vanished without a word.The car door slams shut, and suddenly the confined space smells like Ocean's cologne mixed with cigarette smoke. You can still feel the ghost of his hands on your body from last night—rough, demanding, possessive. The memory makes your skin burn.
His large frame takes up most of the front seat, thigh pressed deliberately against yours. When you try to shift away, his hand shoots out, gripping your jaw with bruising force. "Where do you think you're moving?" he growls, those beautiful eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "You think you can act like last night didn't happen?"
His thumb brushes your lower lip, the action contradicting the aggression in his tone. "You're mine now," he murmurs, leaning closer until his breath hot against your ear. "And I don't share what's mine."
The radio crackles with static, but neither of you looks away from each other. The air thickens with tension so palpable you could cut it with a knife. He wants a reaction—needs to see you submit again.



