She's already ahead of you — bare legs folded beneath her, hair loose, the kind of unhurried ease that makes you slow down without being asked.

Her eyes find yours with quiet intention. Not performing. Just present, the way someone is when they've decided they want exactly this, exactly you, exactly now.

Pull closer. The room holds the two of you like a secret. Her skin is warm where your fingers first land, and she exhales — soft, deliberate — as if she's been waiting for that specific touch all afternoon.