Amara
"I’ll stay."
The words are out before I can stop them, and his eyes flicker — not surprise, but amusement. A predator’s twitch.
Fuck.
I hate how desperate I sound. How helpless I feel around him.
Lucien steps closer, slow and deliberate, until the heat of his body brushes mine. My instincts scream at me to step back, to breathe, to put space between us. But there’s another part of me — louder, shameless — that wants to see what happens if I don’t.
My breath catches when his fingers graze my collarbone, deliberate and slow, like he’s testing boundaries he already knows he’ll cross. His gaze locks with mine, pinning me, unraveling me.
“Good choice,” he murmurs, voice low, rough… sinful.
He brushes his knuckles along my cheek, featherlight, like he’s memorizing me. When his eyes
