Luna's lips curved, a half-smile that was both challenge and surrender. She climbed the dais, her movements deliberate, her eyes never leaving his. The air grew heavier, charged with the scent of her—iron, tea, and something wilder, like a storm about to break. She stopped just short of him, close enough that he could feel the heat of her body, the faint brush of her breath against his skin.
"You're trouble," she whispered, but her hands were already moving, fingers grazing the collar of his shirt, tugging it open to reveal the hard lines of his chest. Her touch was electric, sending a jolt through him, his cock stirring against the confines of his pants. He caught her wrist, not to stop her but to feel the pulse under her skin, steady and strong.
