And I think I like it.
My mouth is open as Chiara sinks to her knees obediently.
The words hang in the air between us.
She freezes for half a second.
Then something changes in her expression.
Not fear.
Not hesitation.
Something stronger.
Curiosity.
Trust.
Slowly—very slowly—she moves into position in front of me.
My mouth goes a little dry watching her.
Fuck.
She tips her head back, brown eyes meeting mine as her hands reach for the waistband of my shorts.
I don’t help.
I don’t rush.
I just stand there and watch.
Because this moment?
It matters.
She’s not doing this because she feels pressured.
She’s choosing it.
Choosing me.
Her fingers pause briefly.
Then she takes a small breath and pushes forward, anyway.
And fuck.
The quiet courage in that small movement hits me harder than any tackle I’ve ever taken.
A woman like her should never doubt herself.
Not her beauty.
Not her body.
Not the way she makes a man lose his mind just by looking at him.
