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I’m in a guest room in the Thomas house—the one where I got ready, where mirrors and soft lighting frame every detail. The air smells faintly of perfume and anticipation.

Honestly, I didn’t expect him to come after me. I intended to spend at most two more minutes here, lightly touching up the already flawless makeup created by a professional, checking my reflection one last time, and then heading downstairs.

I’m facing the bathroom mirror, my back to the door, when I see him in the reflection the instant he appears.

His gaze locks on me, holding mine for several seconds—long enough to make my pulse quicken—before his eyes slowly drift downward, agonizingly slow, tracing every line, every curve, every intentional detail I carefully chose tonight.

No reaction. No visible expression. Ethan, the CEO—you can’t read him unless he decides you can.

Attuned to every micro-reaction, I notice the change—the intensity, the fire igniting in his eyes the moment they lift back to mine. Subtle, but unmistakable.

A violent shiver runs through me, yet I don’t move. I wait.

He takes a few measured steps closer, unhurried, calculated, close enough to touch if he chooses, his focus never leaving me.

He lifts one hand, brushing the back of two fingers over my shoulder, barely there, then slowly trails them down my arm.

Goosebumps erupt across my skin, my breathing catching as my lungs forget how to function for a moment.

I have countless moments of awareness around him—the power of the man beside me, his presence, his control, the way he owns every space he enters. This is one of them.

“You’re unreal, kitten,” he murmurs, his deep voice vibrating straight through me.

Ethan closes the distance with a single step, wrapping both hands around my waist with quiet authority, pressing his lips to my neck. The touch is possessive, burning, sending desire coursing through my veins.

“Divine,” he continues, his sensual voice making my legs weaken despite myself.

He looks at me in the mirror over his shoulder, those green eyes burning with knowing, dangerous intensity.

I can’t speak, I can’t form a thought. I’m acutely aware of how close he is, the warmth of his body, his presence enveloping me, his touch anchoring me in place.

“A real-life Barbie doll,” he whispers into my ear, before his lips return to my neck.

Slow. Tempting.

Tentatively, I lift my hand, letting it glide lightly over his jaw, tracing the line of his handsome face, feeling the warmth radiate from him.

His lips continue their soft, insistent kisses, igniting a fire that makes my knees weaken.

“I’m so in love with you, Ethan,” I murmur, tone sweet but firm, the words dripping with intention. “Every time, I’m completely overwhelmed by your presence.”

A satisfied, knowing smile spreads across his face—the kind that says he understands the power he holds over me, how effortlessly he can unravel me with a single glance.

Leaning closer, his breath brushing my ear, eyes locked on mine in the mirror, he whispers, “If you knew what you make me feel every time I think of you—or see you—you’d understand the power you hold over me, Thalia.”

He cups my face, gently, turning me toward him. The kiss that follows is neither restrained nor careful—it’s fiery, insistent, brimming with the need I feel every time he’s near, the tension I’ve carried silently for years.

I abandon every thought of my makeup, perfect just moments ago, and melt into him. My hands slide behind his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, our bodies pressing together with a passion that leaves me breathless.

We gasp for air, finally breaking apart after what feels like an eternity, foreheads resting together, hearts hammering in sync.

“Either we stop now,” he says, his laugh teasing, “or we go downstairs after my mouth has touched every inch of your body.”

His hands slide down my hips, pulling me impossibly close, the undeniable proof of his desire pressing against me.

God, this man and his perfect, sinful mouth.

I kiss him again, briefly this time, savoring his taste, then pull back just slightly, needing air, needing space to remember I exist beyond this moment.