Leyla's chest still rose and fell rapidly, her heart pounding after that fierce kiss. But even with her lips still tingling from his claim, she wasn't about to back down.
She narrowed her eyes at him, then suddenly stuck out her tongue playfully, scrunching her nose in mock defiance.
Ozan stared at her for a second, completely taken aback — and then a deep, unexpected laugh erupted from his chest. A genuine, low, rich laugh that filled the private jet cabin and made Leyla's own lips twitch despite herself.
"Oh, you little brat," Ozan managed between laughs, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He leaned back slightly, one hand running through his dark hair as if trying to calm himself down.
Leyla crossed her arms over her chest, lifting her chin proudly as if she'd won a small battle.
"Yeah, laugh all you want," she teased, sticking her tongue out at him again, this time even more exaggerated. "I'll still watch my handsome Turkish actors, and you can't do anything about it."
Ozan's laughter softened into a slow, amused smirk as he leaned forward again, his fingers reaching up to gently tug at her chin.
"Careful," he warned in a low, teasing growl. "Keep doing that and I might have to show you exactly who you belong to… right here, right now."
Leyla's breath caught for a moment, her cheeks flushing pink, but she forced herself to maintain her playful glare.
"Dream on, Mr. Jealous," she shot back. But inside, her heart twisted at how easy it felt to tease him now… how natural it was to share this dangerous, electric tension.
Ozan's eyes stayed locked on her, that same dangerous amusement glowing in them. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip one more time, so softly it almost felt like a ghost touch.
Then, finally, he pulled away, settling back into his seat with a deep, satisfied sigh — still watching her like a hawk.
Leyla turned to her phone again, pretending to be focused on her drama, but her mind buzzed with warmth and adrenaline, her lips still burning from his kiss.
The rest of the flight passed in a kind of quiet, electric peace. After all the playful teasing, all the heated tension, Leyla finally felt her eyelids getting heavier.
She shifted slightly in her seat, still pretending to watch her Turkish drama, but her head kept drooping closer to Ozan's shoulder.
At first, she stubbornly straightened up every time she leaned on him — as if she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. But each time, her movements got slower… lazier… softer…
Finally, with a small sigh, she gave in and let her head rest fully against Ozan's broad shoulder.
Ozan froze for a moment, almost like he didn't want to even breathe too loud and risk waking her up. Then, a small, victorious smile spread across his lips.
Slowly, he shifted his arm so it wrapped around her shoulders protectively, pulling her even closer. Leyla didn't move. Her breathing had already turned slow and even, her delicate lashes resting softly against her cheeks.
Ozan tilted his head down, studying her sleeping face as if memorizing every detail.
"She finally stopped fighting me… even if it's just in her sleep," he whispered under his breath, a hint of amusement and warmth in his voice.
He brushed a stray hair away from her face gently, his fingers surprisingly tender for someone with such a dangerous reputation.
Outside the jet window, the moonlight painted everything in a silver glow, making the whole moment feel almost unreal — quiet, fragile, and intimate.
For the first time in a long time, Ozan leaned back in his seat and simply closed his eyes too, allowing himself to enjoy the warmth pressed against him.
Their stormy, fiery relationship paused for a few hours… in the clouds, above everyone else, they found a rare kind of peace.