Vincent yielded easily, sinking back onto the soft bed. He looked up at Rory, indulgence and a faint smile lingering in his eyes.
"Oh?" he murmured, voice low and slightly hoarse, deliberately softened into something deeper, more magnetic. "And how does Rory intend to punish me?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, Rory leaned down, bracing her hands on either side of him, caging him beneath her shadow. A strand of her hair slipped forward, brushing lightly across his cheek—a teasing, feather-soft touch.
"The first punishment," she said at last, her voice gentle as drifting silk, yet edged with quiet authority, "is for hiding your injuries from me… and making me worry."
Before the words had fully settled, she lowered her head.
Her lips, warm and impossibly soft, pressed against a newly healed scar near his collarbone.
The kiss was light—utterly devoid of desire—yet it struck deeper than any seduction.
The moment their skin met, Vincent's body stiffened, his breath catching.
