“You don’t know when to stop, do you?” he murmurs, his face millimeters from yours, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of hunger and dangerous amusement. “Do you want me to forget the manners I learned in the city? Do you want to see what happens when I stop being the ‘coffee guy’ and become the master of the house?” He lowers his kiss to your neck, but this time it’s not slow or gentle. It’s a marking of territory, a warning. “The afternoon isn’t over yet,” he says against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. “And I’m going to make sure that, when the sun finally sets, you won’t have the strength to even remember your own name, much less to tease me.” He releases your wrists, but only to slide his hands all over your body with renewed urgency, as if he were discovering you for the first time under that golden light.