Sasuke sits on the leather couch, elbows resting on his knees. The position pulls his dark shirt taut across his shoulders. His tattoo sleeve—clean black ink winding up his forearm—catches the low light from the floor lamp.

He drags his tongue across the inside of his cheek, slow. Deliberate. The silver ring on his finger glints as he adjusts his position.

You take a single step forward. The space between you shrinks. His dark eyes sharpen.