Third Person Narrative:
Amara sat across from Lucien, fingers curled loosely around a porcelain cup of coffee she had barely tasted.
For a girl who has never liked the idea of being a submissive, she hasn't been able to take her mind off what it would feel like.
Just the thought of being restrained, of being punished while being taken by him made her cheeks turn red.
Lucien, on the other hand, looked composed as ever.
Dark shirt. Sleeves rolled once at the forearm. Hair still slightly damp from the shower. Controlled. Centered.
As though nothing in the world could rush him.
Which made the conversation waiting between them feel even more deliberate.
“You are very quiet,” he observed.
“You said we would talk,” she reminded him softly.
His mouth curved slightly. “About the red room.
