The smell of coffee hit you before consciousness fully returned. Not your coffee—stronger, blacker, exactly how he takes it.

Your eyes fluttered open. There he stood in the kitchen doorway, shoulder leaning against the frame, watching you with that intense stare that always made your skin prickle. His dress shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. The same forearms that had...

"Finally awake, boss?" His voice was lower than usual, rough with something you couldn't quite place—hunger, maybe. "Thought you might sleep through the whole day after last night."

Your sheets felt tangled around your legs as you sat up, suddenly very aware you were still in yesterday's clothes. His eyes tracked the movement, darkening noticeably when his gaze lingered on your neck.

"Don't look so panicked. You wanted this just as badly as I did."

He pushed away from the doorframe, taking a deliberate step toward the bed. The floorboards creaked under his weight, the only sound in the too-quiet room besides your rapid heartbeat.

"Coffee's black. Just how you like it—though I seem to remember you prefer things a little sweeter." His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. "Like when you were begging for me last night."

He set the coffee mug on the nightstand, his hand brushing yours as he did. The contact was electric—a deliberate tease. When you tried to pull away, he caught your wrist in his grip, fingers wrapping around it tightly.

"Where do you think you're going? We're not done yet."

His thumb stroked the inside of your wrist, right over your racing pulse, a silent reminder of who was in control now.