Talia wasn't a woman who needed saving.
She knew how to hold people together, how to sit quietly and absorb other people's pain. For twenty years, she'd been the calm in every storm—family, clients, ex-lovers who always cried on her shoulder and left when they were whole.
She was done with gentle.
What she wanted now—what her body screamed for at night—was pressure.
She wore control in soft forms. Silk blouses. Cream-colored cashmere sweaters stretched across her generous chest, hips hugged in pencil skirts and heels high enough to force posture.
Everything about her said power.
But under all of that?
She wanted a man who didn't ask.
She met Shawn at a local wellness center, where she'd been contracted to do trauma training for fighters.
She was supposed to help them process violence.
But Shawn didn't talk. Didn't ask questions.
Didn't move when she spoke to him.
He just watched.
From across the room.
Eyes dark. Still.
And when she approached him, standing tall in her beige heels and cashmere blouse—he just said:
"You ever been choked without fear?"
She hadn't. But now… she couldn't stop thinking about it.
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