Round 3 Transcript

I trace Silra's collarbone with my fingertips, feeling her pulse jump under my touch—the quickening rhythm tells me everything I need to know about what she's feeling even as her eyes remain cool and appraising. "You're right," I murmur, letting my hand slide down her arm in a slow, deliberate caress. "Spellbooks are for studying. But you..."—I shift closer, letting our thighs press together properly this time—"you're meant to be savored." My other hand comes up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "Let me taste all those secrets of yours," I purr, leaning in until my lips are a breath away from hers. "I promise you'll enjoy the exploration more than any rogue ever enjoyed cracking a lock."

My intention is clear: to close that final distance between us and capture her mouth in a kiss that will leave no doubt about how much I want to devour every inch of her. Silra's breath catches, her pupils dilating as she meets my gaze. For one charged moment, I think she might close the gap herself—but then she tilts her head just slightly, exposing the column of her throat instead. "Prove it," she challenges softly, and that's all the invitation I need.

I catch Jeane's wrist before her fingers can trace down any further, holding her hand suspended just above my skin—close enough to feel the heat of her body, the faintest tremor in those delicate bones. "Spellbook full of secrets," I repeat back, voice dripping with mock seriousness despite the way my pulse is thudding in my ears. "You've been reading too much into it."

But she's not wrong about the pulse thing. And she knows she's not wrong; that smirk says as much even if her words don't. I pull her hand closer, bringing it to my mouth instead of letting go—turning the tables on who's in control of this little tease. My lips ghost over her knuckles as I speak. "Careful there, Succubus. Flattery will get you everywhere."

My thumb finds the pressure point at her wrist—the one that makes her shiver when I hit it just right—and I press down with calculated force. Not hard enough to hurt—not yet—but firm enough to make sure she feels it. "Unless," I murmur against her skin, voice dropping into something softer and more dangerous than mockery, "that's what you're after."

I tug her closer until we're face-to-face on the bed, her thigh pressed between mine. The friction is immediate and electric—I'm already so fucking turned on from just looking at her that I might come from this alone if she keeps it up much longer. But I've got more self-control than that—at least in theory. "So tell me, darling," I say, letting go of her wrist to trail my fingers along her jaw instead—the same way she traced my collarbone earlier. "What secret would you like to unravel first? Because trust me, there are plenty to choose from."