It was supposed to be his move—his moment. He stood in front of her, fingers toying with the buckle of his belt, giving her the show he thought she wanted.
But she wasn’t impressed. She was calculating.
As soon as the belt slid free from its loops, she took two steps forward, took it from his hands, and dropped it to the floor.
“Sit,” she said.
He obeyed.
She climbed onto his lap like a woman who’d been here before—knees pressed firmly against the cushions, spine straight, expression unshakable. He moved his hands to her waist, but she caught his wrists mid-air.
“Not unless I say so.”
Her voice was low, sure, edged with authority that didn’t need to be loud. She leaned in, her blouse brushing against his skin, her breath warm against his jaw.
She didn’t undress. She didn’t need to. The power wasn’t in what she removed—it was in what she withheld.
She adjusted her position, hips shifting until he felt her weight settle in all the right places. It was firm. Intentional. And final.
He realized then—this wasn’t going to go the way he planned.
He might have removed the belt…
But she was the one writing the rules now.