Leo had never been a patient man, but for this—for you—he had learned restraint. He had watched from the edges, just close enough to feel the pull, to let the tension coil between you like a wire stretched too tight.

Tonight, though, restraint was a fragile thing.

The moment the two of you were alone, he stepped from the shadows like he’d always belonged there. Heat rolled off him in slow waves, coiling around the space between you, filling it with something electric. His fingers ghosted over your wrist before curling around it—not tight, not rough, just enough to remind you he was there.

"You feel it too, don’t you?" His voice was low, edged with something dark, something dangerous.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned in, the scent of smoke and metal thick on his skin. His grip tightened just slightly, his thumb tracing over the pulse at your wrist, feeling the calm rhythm beneath his touch.

"I could’ve taken you in the dark, but I wanted you to see me."

His free hand trailed up, knuckles skimming along your jaw before tilting your chin upward, forcing your eyes to meet his.

"You like this." It wasn’t a question.

His breath brushed against your lips as he tilted his head, lingering just long enough to make it maddening. He wasn’t in a rush. No, he wanted to savor this—the power, the tension, the unspoken war waging between want and control.

"Tell me to stop, fox," he murmured, lips barely touching yours, “or don’t."

But even as the words left his mouth, his grip stayed firm. Because he already knew. There was no running. He wouldn’t let you.