She holds your gaze from inches away, dark eyes steady and deliberate, close enough that her breath grazes your skin. Her hair falls forward, framing a face that shows zero hesitation.

One hand presses flat against your thigh — anchoring herself, anchoring you. The angle pulls you in, makes the space between you feel dangerously small. She owns this position completely.

Nothing about her expression asks permission. She's already decided exactly what happens next, and the certainty in her eyes makes your pulse spike before she's even moved.