Stefan's jaw clenched slightly, like he was fighting some internal battle—but it only lasted a second. His hands rose, one cupping her cheek, the other sliding to her lower back, guiding her closer. His touch was unhurried, but firm and certain.
Ruby found herself shifting, straddling his lap instinctively, needing to be near him—with him—not just in proximity, but in soul. She knew she was dancing on a razor-thin line between lies and truth, but in that moment, all she could focus on was him—his touch, his need, the way his breath deepened with every inch of closeness.
His lips found hers again, this time bolder, hungrier. Their mouths moved in sync, a rhythm that grew with each heartbeat, with each brush of skin. Ruby let her hands roam, exploring his broad shoulders, the firm lines of his chest beneath his shirt.
