Nevara
The gown slipped from my shoulders like a whispered promise, pooling at my feet in a silken hush. Thoren’s fingers ghosted over the strap of my bra, his voice low against my neck.
“Do you need help with this as well?”
I nodded, breath catching as his fingers slid beneath the band, unhooking it with maddening precision. The tension in the room thickened, a slow-burning coil wrapping tighter with every second he didn’t touch me—and every second I ached for him to.
The bra fell away, and cool air kissed my skin just before his hands replaced the fabric. He cupped my breasts like I was fragile and holy, like something sacred he’d waited too damn long to claim.
“It’s only been a week,” I whispered. “Since you marked me.”
His eyes lifted to mine, pupils dark and blown wide.
“I know
