His golden-tan eyes locked onto hers.
And for the first time—No smirk.No teasing.Just staring.
His hand found her waist—Slow. Deliberate.Warm fingers resting against the curve of her hip as if he had all the time in the world to touch her.
Then his other hand rose.Fingertips barely grazed her cheek.
Anastasia didn't move.Didn't pull away.Didn't even breathe.
And Malvor…He leaned in.
Slowly.So agonizingly slow.
His nose brushed hers.His lips hovered right there, close enough that she could feel the ghost of his breath.
And then—
A kiss.
Soft. Barely there.Just the lightest brush, feather-soft and sweet—As if testing the weight of something he hadn't dared touch before.
It wasn't demanding.It wasn't chaotic.
It was… careful.
And that, more than anything, startled her.
Malvor pulled away—But only barely.
His lips were no longer on hers,But he was still right there.Close.Too close.
And gods above, his gaze was doing something to her.Something new.Something she wasn't sure she had ever felt before.
He didn't move.Didn't smirk.Didn't joke.
He just stayed.In her space.In her face.
Was he waiting?For her?For something else?
The thought sent a strange thrill through her—Something deep and uncertain curling low in her stomach.
What did she want?
Without thinking, she curled her bottom lip into her mouth.Just slightly.Just enough to taste him—The lingering sugar-spun sweetness of his kiss still on her lips.
Malvor's gaze dropped instantly.
Tracking.Watching every small movement.
His golden eyes burned—Dark and hot—Following the way her teeth caught her lip, the subtle shift of her breath, the tiniest tremor in her composure.
He saw it all.
And for the first time, she realized—
He wasn't just waiting.
He was giving her the choice.
Her choice.
And she takes it.
Anastasia's hands found his face—His jaw. His hair.The silky strands slipping through her fingers as she pulled him back to her mouth.
Malvor let her.No resistance.No teasing.
Just giving in.
The kiss was deeper this time.More demanding.
She wasn't just kissing him—She was exploring.Testing the feeling.The want curling in her gut.The heat spreading through her chest.
And gods, she enjoyed it.
She knew how to kiss.It was a skill.Something she had perfected over the years.
But this kiss?
This was sloppy.This was needy.This was not controlled.
She needed more.
Malvor felt that shift.Sensed the way her fingers tightened in his hair.The way her breath hitched as she pressed closer.
He matched her—Deepening the kiss with a slow, decadent roll of his mouth against hers.
Her lips parted—instinct, habit—
And he took full advantage.
His tongue slid against hers.Teasing.Coaxing.Claiming.
And she melted into it.
A small sound escaped her throat—Something unintentional.Something real.
And Malvor groaned in response,Fingers tightening on her waist as he pulled her flush against him.
She should have expected that he'd be good at this.That he'd be insufferably good at this.
But knowing it and experiencing it were two entirely different things.
Malvor didn't stop.Didn't think about stopping.
Not until she did.
Not until she broke the kiss—panting.Her breath warm against his lips.Her chest rising and falling like she was trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Her hands were still in his hair,Fingers curled around his face—Like she hadn't fully convinced herself to let go yet.
And for once—for once—
He didn't ruin it by talking.Didn't cut the moment with a joke.Didn't try to lighten the absolute destruction she had just left on him.
No.
He opened his mouth—
Only to press it right back to hers.
Because gods, he wasn't done.Because he wanted more.So much more.
And she let him.
No hesitation.No pulling away.
This time, there was no teasing.No playing around.
Just taking.
Both of them taking everything.
Malvor wasn't done.
And neither was she.
The moment their lips met again, something shifted.
Something deeper.Hungrier.
Their hands became more urgent.
His fingers tightened on her waist, sliding up her back—Tracing the curves he had only glanced at before.
Her skin was warm,Impossibly soft beneath his touch—
And gods.He wanted to memorize it.
Anastasia moved just as boldly.
Her hands roamed from his face, through his damp hair, down his neck, across his shoulders.
Feeling him.Learning the exact shape of him beneath her fingers.
He groaned into the kiss.Tilting his head to taste more—Take more.
Her hands pressed to his chest,Mapping the firm planes of muscle,The heat of his skin beneath her palms.
She had touched a thousand bodies before—But this?
This was different.
Because she wanted this.Wanted him.
Then—
Without realizing it—She slipped into habit.
The urgency faded.
Her movements became practiced.Fluid.
Not passionate.Precise.
Her kisses, once messy and real,Became controlled.Deliberate.
Her hands, once curious—once seeking—Moved with the grace of muscle memory.
And Malvor felt the shift.
Immediately.
And he hated it.
He broke the kiss—Pulling back just enough to stop her hands.Catching them in his own.
"No."
His voice was quiet.But firm.
Anastasia blinked.Caught off guard.Breath still uneven.
"Not like this," he murmured.Golden eyes searching hers.
"Not the expectation."
Her fingers tensed slightly in his grasp.
"I don't want this."
Her lips parted slightly.A flicker of something—uncertainty—crossed her face.
His grip softened.
But he didn't let go.
"I want you," he said.Voice lower now.Steady.
"All of you. The real you."
Not the performance.Not the role.
Her.
She paused.
Wanting him.
But not knowing how to give him what he wanted.
Not knowing how to break the rhythm.The trained response.The perfected pattern.
She had always known how to please.
But this?
This was different.
And she didn't know how to be different.
So they stopped.
Not with words.Not with a fight.
Just… a slow, quiet pulling away.
Malvor exhaled.
Still holding her hands a moment longer—Then finally letting go.
And then—
Soft.Softer than she could have imagined—
He leaned in.
And pressed a single, lingering kiss to her forehead.
No smirk.No teasing.No arrogance.
Just warmth.
Then—
Without a word—
He walked out.
Anastasia sat on the edge of her bed.
Her pulse still unsteady.Her hands still warm where he had held them.
She thought she knew what he wanted.Thought she understood desire.Intimacy.
The way people took and gave in equal measure.
But Malvor had stopped her.
Had looked at her like she was missing something.
And that kiss…Not on her lips.Not to stoke fire.Not to take.
Just a kiss to her forehead.
It had been tender.
And that?
That terrified her.
Sex was easy.
A rhythm. A role.
But this?
This was unmapped territory.
And she didn't know how to navigate it.
She lay back,Staring at the ceiling—
Still feeling the ghost of his lips on her skin.
And for the first time in years—
Sleep did not come easy.
Meanwhile—
Malvor walked out of the house.
He had to.
He needed the cool night airTo shock some sense back into him.
What in the hells was that?
She had wanted him.That much was clear.
And gods—he had wanted her, too.
But then—
She shifted.
And suddenly, it wasn't her anymore.It was a mask.A performance.
And he didn't want that.
He wanted her.Her wicked smirks.Her blunt words.Her exasperated sighs and rare indulgent laughter.
He wanted her.
And she… didn't know how to give it.
He exhaled sharply.Running a hand down his face.
This was not what he had planned.Not what he expected.
He had taken her to piss off the gods.
And now?
Now he wasn't sure who had actually won.