Casian's head tipped back slightly when she pressed her lips to the center of his chest, her breath warm against his skin. He had been expecting her to yield like she always did. Instead, she was staking a claim with every kiss, every slow, deliberate touch.
His grip on her hips loosened, granting her more freedom, as though he was silently telling her, "This is yours now."
Lyra leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, and what she saw there made something deep inside her tighten. This wasn't the look of a man in control. This was a man willingly giving it up.
Her gown slipped further down her shoulders, the silky fabric pooling at her waist. Casian's gaze swept over her like a caress, but for the first time in a long while, he didn't dictate the pace. He didn't push. He didn't demand.
She cupped his face, her thumb brushing the corner of his mouth, and whispered, "Don't stop me."
His reply was low, rough, and absolute. "I wouldn't dare."
