Harry's grip on Eve's waist was firm yet desperate, his need clear as he effortlessly lifted her onto his lap, positioning her so that she straddled him.
Their bodies pressed together, the heat between them igniting an uncontrollable fire.
His hands moved with skilled urgency, fingers expertly finding the zipper at the back of her dress. With a swift, practiced motion, he slid it down, the fabric parting to reveal the delicate curve of her spine.
His lips never left hers, devouring every breath, every sigh, as he unhooked her bra with a determination that left no room for hesitation. He was a man on a mission—one singular, undeniable goal: to feel her, to claim every inch of her as his own.
But just as he pulled the fabric down, baring more of her to his hungry gaze, Eve's hands flew up, gripping the neckline of her dress, holding it tightly against her chest.
