Cassian let the words hang in the air, slow, deliberate, like a candle flame refusing to be blown out. His eyes lingered on her, tracing the curve of her neck, the way the fabric clung to her skin, the subtle sway of her hips as she moved. A slow, half smile tugged at his lips. “Is that so?” His voice was low, almost a cares in the moment. He lifted one hand, brushing the tip of his fingers across her jaw, tracing her cheekbone as if memorising it in case he never saw her again. “You have no idea what that does to a man who’s supposed to be in control.”
He took a step back, tilting his head, eyes never leaving hers. “But,” he added, the faintest smirk teasing the corner of his mouth, “control is overrated, right?” His fingers lingered at the collar of his shirt but he let them brush just enough for her to notice they’d followed the path hers had once taken. “Maybe I’ll watch.” Then, just for a heartbeat, he leaned in — close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath, the faint trace of his cologne, the heat of his chest — and whispered, “I’d love to add meaning to the crowd of yours, Sophia. My arms around my girlfriend, kissing her and whispering in her ear about the things I wish to do to her later.” He straightened, smooth and precise, as though nothing had happened, yet the air between them still vibrated with the unspoken, dangerous promise. His gaze lingered one last time, tracing her from head to toe and back up again before nodding towards the door. “Now am I to climb through the window?”