His hand rested gently on her waist, tentative and polite, like he wasn’t sure she’d let him stay there.
She didn’t flinch.
She didn’t pull back.
But she didn’t exactly invite him either.
Instead, she shifted slightly—just enough for her hips to press closer.
The movement was subtle, almost imperceptible, but the message was loud:
She wasn’t waiting on his touch.
Her body had already made the next move.
And it wasn’t a passive sway.
It was a claim.
A suggestion that she wasn’t the one being seduced here.
No—she was the one setting the pace.
He could hold her waist as long as he liked, but her hips… her hips moved with intention.
Not to retreat.
Not to yield.
But to guide.
And that’s when he realized—he wasn’t leading her anywhere.
He was just along for the ride she’d already charted.