The first thing Shawn changed was the distance.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Three feet.
When I entered the study the next morning, he was already there—standing near the windows in a dark dress shirt with sleeves rolled to his forearms, tablet in one hand, untouched coffee beside him. The morning light carved sharp shadows across his jaw and the corded strength of his arms. He looked devastating. Controlled. Severe.
And exactly three feet away from my desk.
I noticed because he noticed me noticing.
“That’s new,” I said carefully.
Shawn didn’t look up immediately. “I’m testing proximity response.”
The words landed strangely in the quiet room.
Not flirtation.
Not dominance.
Measurement.
I set my bag down slowly. “And?”
His jaw flexed once. “Elevated correction pressure begins
