Too steady.
“You don’t feel anything?” I asked quietly.
His gaze held mine. “I do.”
“Then show me.”
The words came out softer than I expected.
Less challenge.
More … something else.
His hand came up, closing around my wrist—not stopping me, not restraining me.
Anchoring.
“You want to see reaction,” he said.
“Yes.”
His thumb brushed along my pulse, slow, deliberate.
“You’re not looking in the right place.”
My breath caught.
“Then where should I look?”
His other hand moved—settling at my waist, drawing me closer until the space between us disappeared completely.
“Here,” he said.
The word was low.
Felt more than heard.
His mouth found mine.
Not tentative.
Not overwhelming.
Certain.
The kiss deepened slowly, deliberately, like he was letting it build instead of taking it all at once. My fingers tightened against his chest, and I felt the shift in him—subtle, controlled, but undeniable.
There.
That was what I had been looking for.
Not loss of control.
Not dominance.
Response.
My body reacted before my thoughts could catch up, heat pooling low, breath shortening as the kiss deepened, sharpened, turned into something that felt less like exploration and more like inevitability.
