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It wipes out every coherent thought I have until all that exists is heat and the endless thrum in my chest. I’m dizzy, drunk on him, and holy fuck—this man can kiss when he finally lets go.

His hand slides up my back, gripping, guiding; mine fists in his shirt, refusing to yield. Every shift, every breath, is a standoff we’ve been circling for weeks.

Months.

It’s not about tenderness now. It’s about proof—who’s wanted this more, who’s held out longer.

I pull away to find that his lips are pinker than they should be, a faint sheen catching the light where my lip gloss has smudged onto him. I like the way it looks.

It looks like he’s mine.

I shift, trying to close the distance, but his grip tightens, one large hand trapping both my wrists behind my back. The movement forces my spine to arch, our mouths close enough that I can feel the ghost of his breath. My body strains toward him on instinct, chasing contact he refuses to give. It’s maddening—the command in his hold, the way he watches me lose my fucking mind without lifting a finger.

A sound slips from my throat, small and needy.

“So impatient,” he says. Coos. “You made me wait all this time and now you just want it all at once, don’t you?”

His nose brushes the curve of my throat, his breath warm against my skin.

His teeth catch lightly on my collarbone, a sharp, fleeting pinch that makes my stomach flip. The spot warms under his mouth, skin tingling where his lips linger just long enough to make me want more. “That’s not how this works, Lila. You’re not the one in control here and I think we both know you prefer it that way.”

Theo has buttons.

I’m going to push every single fucking one of them.

“That’s a lot of confidence for someone barely holding it together.” I grind my pelvis against his cock.

I’d known two things in advance—he’d likely be hard, and he’d be big.

I just hadn’t accounted for the reality of it, exactly how big he’d be when hard.

This isn’t normal. The sudden awareness of what I’ve just invited makes my eyes go wide, my mouth parting before I can stop it.

I have seen the outline of it. I have felt the impression of it.

But, this angle gives me an entirely different perspective on the logistics of this, and I’d like to formally request a moment to process the data.

Theo lifts one eyebrow. A silent question he knows I don’t have an answer to.

He squeezes my wrists just once. “If I let you go, are you going to do what I say?”

This man gives a whole new meaning to big dick energy.

My chin jerks in a sharp, wordless agreement because I can’t seem to find my voice.

His fingers loosen hesitantly, as if every instinct in him resists letting go.

His eyes move from mine, to my lips, to where my hands fall limp at my sides.

Seemingly satisfied, he plucks at the fabric of my shirt. “Take this off, Lila. Put me out of my misery and show me why I haven’t slept a full fucking night since the first day we met.”

I know what Theo wants. What he likes. It’s always been there, unspoken but obvious.

It’s part of how I know we fit—how we were, in some ways, made for each other.

He likes it when I push back, when I don’t make it easy for him. It’s why he likes me, maybe why he’s even here at all. And if I’m being honest with myself, defiance isn’t something I have to fake. It comes easy. And something tells me it’s going to get me exactly what I want from him in return.

“You want it off so badly, Professor, take it off yourself.”