He could feel every inch of her. Every curve. Every—
This is it. This is how my virginity dies.
Today. Right now. In this room.
I'm not ready. I'm NOT READY.
But wait.
She smelled like roses?
Not what he expected. Not the smell of—
Did she use magic? Some kind of cleaning spell?
His brain was trying to process, trying to understand.
Failing completely.
No words were coming out of his mouth. He tried—say something, anything, tell her to stop—but all that came out was a strangled whisper, barely audible.
"I—you—MYRA—"
She leaned in closer, her lips right next to his ear. He could feel her breath.
"What is it, sweetie?"
Her voice was silk. Dangerous silk.
"We're both adults. Why are you being so dramatic about biology?"
Her hand moved, slipped down, slid across his chest—slow, teasing.
"Maybe we can have some fun. Right?"
No. No no no no no.
This is NOT happening.
This CANNOT be happening.
Lucian's mouth opened. He tried to speak, What came out was:
