The first thing you feel is the heat of him behind you. Not his hands—yet—but his presence. Heavy, slow-moving, like honey on hot stone. The suite is dim, the curtains drawn even though it’s barely past noon. Somewhere far below, the city hums. But up here, in the quiet of his penthouse bedroom, it’s just you and him and the low, velvet silence between want and having.

You’re still in his shirt. Bare-legged. Stretching out on the cool linen sheets like you own the hour. And maybe you do—he gave it to you, didn’t he? Bought you the whole day with a text that only read: Clear your schedule. I’m done waiting.

Now he stands at the edge of the bed, shirtless, belt undone, watching you like you’re dessert and sin and debt, all rolled into one.

“You’re comfortable,” he murmurs, voice warm and hoarse with sleep—or something far more dangerous. “Too comfortable.”

You roll onto your back, grinning lazily, one leg bent just enough to drive him crazy. “I thought that’s what you paid for.”

His eyes darken. “I paid for your time. Not your attitude.”

You stretch your arms above your head like a cat, letting the hem of his shirt ride up your stomach. “Well,” you say, eyes half-lidded, “it’s a package deal.”

He’s on you in two strides—still calm, still composed, but his fingers find your jaw, tilt your head just enough. His thumb brushes your lip. “And what does this package include today?”

You don’t answer. You just bite—softly—at the pad of his thumb, then release it with a smile that makes his restraint unravel, thread by thread.

“I missed you,” you whisper, like a sin you’re not sorry for. “Missed how you ruin me.”

He exhales through his nose, mouth twitching like he wants to stay composed—but you know that look. You know how to pull him under. You always do.

“Be careful,” he says low, sliding the shirt off your shoulder like he’s unwrapping something he’s already paid too much for. “I don’t have any meetings today.”

You tilt your head, grin sharp as glass. “So you’re mine?”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “No, corazón. You’re mine. All day.”