Inside the dimly lit chamber, Lyra lay restless, sleep eluding her. Casian's absence gnawed at her, each passing moment amplifying her worry. He hadn't returned from the study since she walked away, leaving an unsettling emptiness in his wake.
Her mind betrayed her, replaying the heated memory of their intimate encounter. A shiver danced down her spine, and her thighs instinctively pressed together, a molten ache settling low in her belly.
Lyra had never touched a man like that before, never dared to explore such forbidden territory. Yet the image of Casian's hard, pulsing length—how he groaned her name, the raw hunger in his voice—seared itself into her thoughts. Had he truly enjoyed her touch? Or had his praise been nothing more than encouragement for her inexperience?
