Sawyer leaned back in his chair, the low thrum of the jazz band seeping into his bones as the saxophone curled around the dim lights of the room. Olivia’s grin sliced through the mellow ambience, her elbows planted firmly on the table, her eyes glittering with a mischievous challenge. He felt the familiar flicker of anticipation spark at the edge of his consciousness, a slow‑burning heat that rose whenever she tossed him a question like a live wire. He leaned forward, his elbows now resting on the table opposite hers, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur that seemed to blend perfectly with the soft jazz. “I would stop pretending there’s any restraint left. I would take you exactly where you want to be taken, and I’d make sure you never forget how it feels when I am the only one who can make your world tilt and your breath catch.”