Julian's voice cut through the room like steel. "I told you never to enter this room without permission, Liza."
She turned, clutching the photo, heart hammering. "I… I just wanted to feel close," she whispered.
He approached slowly, deliberately, his eyes holding hers, unrelenting. He took the photograph, tossed it onto the desk, and then lifted her into his arms, setting her gently—but firmly—on the smooth surface among scattered papers.
"You broke a rule," he said quietly, letting the weight of those words sink in. "And rules exist for a reason."
His hands moved with care, sliding over the curve of her waist, brushing against the soft silk of her blouse. Liza's breath hitched. "Please… Julian," she whispered, the need in her voice impossible to hide.
"You must learn," he murmured, leaning close. "You feel, but you do not take. You ask, but I decide. You will not move. You will not touch. You will only surrender to what I allow."
Her skin tingled under his touch, a mixture of frustration and longing that made her stomach twist. His eyes never left hers, a constant reminder of control and desire intertwined. Every small contact, every whisper of his lips near her ear, made her ache to bend to him completely.