*~Gabrielle's POV~*
"I'm… sorry," he said, voice rough. "I didn't mean to— that was messy. I should… clean up."
Before he could move away, I caught his hand.
"It's not," I said softly.
"Gabrielle, I know it's not exactly—"
"I said it's not."
My voice came out firmer than I expected.
I took a breath, stood, and let my gown fall from my shoulders. His eyes widened, and every trace of embarrassment on his face melted into stunned silence. His gaze locked on me—intense, reverent, hungry—but he didn't touch me, not until I let him.
"My turn," I whispered. "You satisfied yourself. Now… you satisfy me."
I sat back on the chair he'd just occupied, my heart pounding like a drum, and he knelt in front of me—slowly, almost worshipfully—his hands rising to my thighs as if asking permission with every inch.
