Marcous turned to her, his handsome face illuminated by the dim lantern light. His smile was still perfect—too perfect—yet something in his eyes had shifted. The charm felt thinner now, stretched over something darker.
"What happened?" he asked softly, tilting his head. "You look worried, my dear."
Ai swallowed the lump in her throat and painted on a smile—small, shy, practiced. "It's nothing… Just getting nervous."
Marcous chuckled, low and indulgent. "Nervous? Of me?" He shifted closer on the velvet seat until their thighs pressed together.
Slowly, deliberately, he draped his arm across her shoulders. His hand hovered just above the swell of her breasts—close enough that she could feel the heat of his palm, but not quite touching. Yet.
Ai's skin crawled. She had to fight the urge to flinch away.
"Ohh… don't worry," he murmured, pulling her gently against his side. "I won't bite."
