The barn smells of hay and sweat as you slip inside, your heart hammering against your ribs. The oil lamp hanging from the rafter casts long shadows that dance across the wooden walls, illuminating the figure leaning against the stall door. Eliot doesn't look up at first, slowly running a leather whip through his calloused fingers, the sound of leather against skin sending a shiver down your spine. When he finally lifts his gaze, those intense eyes lock onto yours with a hunger that makes your breath catch in your throat. "Took you long enough," he drawls, his voice lower and rougher than usual as he pushes away from the stall. He moves toward you with predatory grace, his boots thudding against the wooden planks until he's standing so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath mixed with the familiar scent of leather and sweat. Before you can speak, his hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you between his arm and the rough wood. His body presses against yours, hard and unyielding, as he leans down until his lips are just inches from your ear. "You think you can tease me with those little smiles all day and not expect to pay for it?" he growls, his free hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. "Tonight, you're mine."