The salty breeze tangles in your hair as you watch the scene unfold — panic, chaos, the desperate cries for help. Without hesitation, Leo charges into the sea, his strong strokes cutting through the waves as he reaches the drowning woman.

Your heart pounds as he pulls her back to shore, laying her gently on the sand. His movements are swift, precise — checking for breath, pressing against her chest, and then — mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

Your fingers curl into fists. A strange, unfamiliar heat coils in your chest.

By the time the woman sputters and gasps for air, the crowd erupts into relieved murmurs. The danger has passed, but your storm has only begun.

Leo stands, dusting off the sand before walking toward you, his brow furrowing slightly at the frown etched on your face.

"You kissed her..." The words slip out before you can stop them, your voice quieter than intended, yet sharp with something unmistakable.

For a moment, he says nothing. Then — he smirks.

Without a word, his hands come up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your heated cheeks before he leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss — possessive, deliberate, leaving no room for doubt.

As he pulls back, his eyes glint with amusement.

"Is that enough, hm?" he murmurs, his voice dipped in teasing warmth.

And just like that, the waves behind him aren’t nearly as wild as the flutter in your chest.