Zhao Yan—"
Her voice quivered, barely a breath, but it was all he needed to hear.
Zhao Yan stilled, his body tense, his golden eyes fixed on hers, searching—not for hesitation, not for doubt, but for permission.
And he found it.
Because Hua Jing wasn't pushing him away.
She wasn't pulling back.
She was pulling him closer.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his robes, her chest rising and falling fast, her lips parted slightly, as if waiting.
Waiting for him.
Waiting for this.
A shudder ran through Zhao Yan.
The last of his restraint snapped.
His lips crashed against hers, claiming her, devouring her, erasing every last inch of distance that had ever existed between them.
Hua Jing gasped, her hands tightening around his shoulders as heat surged between them, an undeniable force neither of them could hold back any longer.
She felt the strength in his hold, the way he wrapped around her, keeping her close, making sure she wouldn't escape.
