Seraphine pushed him further into her room, her finger lazily tracing along the edge of his shirt in a playful, teasing circle. Her lips curled into a wide smile, the kind that mixed charm with danger. With a sudden tug, she ripped open his shirt, buttons scattering across the wooden floor like dice cast in a gamble. Her nails pressed to his bare chest, dragging slowly as though painting invisible patterns there.
Edward's breath caught, not from arousal, but from the gnawing suspicion that had lingered ever since he laid eyes on her mark.
But he didn't have long to dwell on it as his heel clipped the bedframe, halting his backward steps. Their eyes locked—hers bright and mischievous, his steady and unreadable.
