Their journey inside the carriage was cloaked in silence.
Lyra sat on one side, her fingers twisting the hem of her gown, her thoughts a chaotic mess of heat, embarrassment, and lingering sensation.
The aftershocks of their earlier intimacy still clung to her skin like invisible marks. His lips, his fingers, the way he'd taken his time tasting her… and how many times he'd made her unravel.
The faint scent of him—musk, woodsmoke, and something darker still lingered on her skin, making it impossible to forget.
Her thighs pressed together instinctively at the memory, and her face flushed all over again. God, he'd licked her clean. Just the thought made her feel like her body would betray her all over again.
And yet, across from her, Casian looked completely composed. Relaxed. Utterly unbothered, as though he hadn't just ruined her in front of a mirror and made her come apart more times than she could count.
