"Don't worry, I've got you."
Haoran's words hung in the cool night air, warm against her skin as he kept his hand cupping her breast, his thumb circling the tight peak with a slow, deliberate rhythm that drew a soft, shuddering sigh from her lips.
Her body was responding despite her nerves—her hips shifted, a subtle, unconscious roll that pressed her mound against his thigh through the fabric of his trousers.
She gasped at the contact, her eyes flying wide, then fluttering shut as a wave of heat surged through her belly.
He didn't rush, he just let her feel the sensation, let her body acclimate to the newness of it.
His other hand slid down her spine, tracing the delicate ridge of each vertebra, until his palm rested on the small of her back.
He pulled her gently closer, so that her bare breasts pressed against his shirt, the fabric a thin barrier between her heated skin and his chest.
