I slowed down deliberately, savoring each bite, letting every motion linger—chewing, swallowing, tilting my head just so. Don’t blame me; a girl has to play when she has an audience like this. And Lucien was watching. Oh, he was watching. His gaze clung to me with a hunger that burned deeper than the candlelight, a hunger that matched the ache tightening in my own body.
Every glance, every brush of my tongue against my lips, felt like part of a delirious dance, a slow, dangerous choreography that pulled us closer to something inevitable.
When the last morsel of cake vanished, I dragged my tongue across my lips with exaggerated slowness and moaned.
His jaw flexed. His eyes darkened.
There was still food left on the table, but we had both done it justice.
“So…” I sighed, sinking back in
