Cassel — POV
When she realized I was serious—when she finally understood there was no path left for retreat—her resistance cracked.
Not shattered.
Not broken.
Just… yielded.
"…Fine," she said at last, her voice tight, brittle with resignation. "What do you want to talk about?"
I didn't answer.
Instead, I looked at her.
I let the silence stretch.
Long enough for it to grow heavy.
Long enough for it to crawl beneath her skin and ignite her temper once more.
She frowned, tried to pull away. "If you're not going to talk, I'm going to sleep. Let go."
I didn't.
I pulled her back—swift, decisive—and this time I turned her fully, guiding her until she sat astride my lap, facing me with nowhere to look but my eyes.
Our bodies aligned perfectly.
Skin to skin.
Chest to chest.
Breath to breath.
Her warmth seeped into me like a slow-burning poison.
The air between us thickened, grew unbearably hot, charged with something dangerous and unspoken.
