Reese was awakened by the unforgiving rumbling of thunder from the blackened sky. The wind howled like a wolf into the night, tearing leaves from the trees with a savage intensity. Lightning crackled, lighting up the sky in violent bursts, and the rain pounded against the ground in a relentless, noisy torrent. The storm outside seemed almost alive, its fury rattling the windows and shaking the foundations of her small, cozy home.

Ding! Dong!

The sound of the doorbell cut through the noise of the storm, startling her. Reese squinted at the red digital numbers on her flashing alarm clock. The power must have flickered out. It was still early—too early for visitors. She rolled out of bed, her feet finding the cool floor, and threw her robe over her black-laced negligee. She hurried toward the front door, the robe clinging to her damp skin as she moved. Her heart thudded in her chest, a mix of anxiety and curiosity flooding her mind. Who could be out there at this hour, in such a storm?

Through the distorted glass panel of the door, she could see a shadow pacing back and forth on her porch, illuminated sporadically by the flashes of lightning. The figure was tall and broad-shouldered, their movements tense and agitated. As she got closer, she hesitated, her hand hovering over the door handle.

"Who is it?" she called through the door, her voice wavering slightly, trying to mask her unease.

"It's Christian," the shadow replied, his deep voice barely audible over the din of the storm.

Reese's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't expected him. Not now, not in the middle of the night, and certainly not in the midst of this tempest. She swung the door open to find Christian standing on her front porch, drenched from head to toe. Rain dripped from his tousled hair, running down his chiseled face in rivulets. His expression was serious and intense, half shrouded in shadow, half illuminated by the sharp, brief flashes of lightning. He looked like a man on the brink—of what, she wasn't sure.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice barely concealing her shock.

"Giving us what we both want," he said, stepping closer, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"Christian, I—"

Before she could finish, Christian's lips crashed against hers, his hands pulling her into his soaked embrace. His kiss was fierce, urgent, a collision of desperation and desire. She sank into his arms, her body responding instinctively to his. His tongue parted her lips, exploring her mouth with a hunger that made her knees weak. Reese's heart raced, her skin tingling as warm sensations spread through her body. She moved her hands to his wet hair, combing her fingers through it, feeling the rain-soaked strands slip between her fingers.

Christian's hands roamed over her body, starting at her face, tracing down her shoulders, then her arms, and finally sliding up her back. She felt his hands glide to her breast, his thumb gently brushing her nipple under her thin negligee, sending shivers down her spine. His touch was electric, and she leaned further into his embrace, her body pressing against his. He deepened the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against hers, as if he couldn't get enough.

They kissed with a fervor that seemed to consume them both, until finally, they broke apart, gasping for breath. Christian stepped back, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing as he drank in the sight of her. His gaze traveled slowly down her body, lingering on every curve, every contour, as if committing her to memory.

"Just as I imagined," he murmured, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "You can wake up now."

Reese blinked in confusion. "What?"

Christian's voice echoed in her mind, fading into a distorted blur. The words began to twist and warp, turning into a shrill, incessant ringing—the unmistakable sound of her alarm clock. Reese's eyes flew open. She was back in her bed, tangled in her sheets, her heart pounding in her chest.

The clock on her nightstand blared obnoxiously, pulling her from the remnants of her vivid dream. She slammed her hand down on the snooze button, silencing the intrusive noise. For a moment, she just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, her mind racing. The dream had felt so real—too real. She could still feel the heat of Christian's touch on her skin, the taste of his lips lingering on hers.

Frustrated and flustered, Reese slid out of bed, her panties damp with sweat and something more. She peeled them off and headed to the shower, hoping the hot water would wash away the lingering sensations of her dream.

After her shower, Reese slipped into a fresh pair of panties and her favorite oversized t-shirt. She crawled back into bed, laptop in hand, trying to shake the feeling of discontent that clung to her. It was early morning, and the world outside was still shrouded in a sleepy silence, the storm having passed, leaving only a few raindrops tapping lazily against the window. Sunday mornings were usually quiet, almost peaceful, but not today.

She opened her emails, scrolling through to see if anyone had RSVP'd for the private showing of the Melrose listing. Nothing. Disappointment gnawed at her. She spent the next few hours paying vendors and designing e-vites for the upcoming masquerade event, her mind wandering back to the dream and what it might mean. Finally, she found herself googling something of slight interest: "dominant and submissive." If she was going to sell a house with a room like the one Christian had, she needed to understand the market.

As she clicked through images, each more provocative than the last, her curiosity grew. This is what Christian was into. It was becoming clearer that he wasn't like any client she had ever worked with. The images were intriguing, arousing even, but also intimidating. She wondered what it would be like to be that vulnerable, that open, with someone. Especially someone like Christian.

MMzz! MMzz!

Her phone vibrated, startling her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen.

5:33 AM 3234933687: Good morning, Ms. Sutherlin. I was hoping to speak with you about my ideas. What time will you be available for a meeting?

Reese stared at her phone for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. Christian. Of course, he would text her now, just when her mind was wandering to places it shouldn't.

5:37 AM Reese: Good morning, Mr. Grey. The office is closed on Sundays.

5:38 AM 3234933687: And your home office? Is that closed as well?

She rolled her eyes. He was relentless.

5:42 AM Reese: Can you send me an email?

5:42 AM 3234933687: Ms. Sutherlin, I would rather discuss this in person.

5:44 AM Reese: Fine. I am available between 10 and 2.

5:47 AM 3234933687: What about now?

Reese glanced at the clock again. Was he serious?

5:55 AM Reese: Do you see what time it is?

5:55 AM 3234933687: I do, but you're awake, and so am I.

5:57 AM Reese: ...okay, that doesn't mean I want company.

5:58 AM 3234933687: Well, why else would you be up so early?

6:00 AM Reese: I'm working.

6:02 AM 3234933687: You're lonely.

She smirked at her phone, feeling a mix of irritation and amusement. He always knew how to push her buttons.

6:04 AM Reese: Or maybe you are. That's why you're texting me. Your bed must be cold.

She sat back, satisfied with her response, waiting for a reply that never came. A flicker of disappointment mingled with her satisfaction. Maybe she had gone too far, but then again, wasn't that the dance they were playing? She put her phone down and sighed, her mind still spinning from the dream and the conversation. She didn't know what Christian wanted, or even what she wanted from him.