She lifted her glass casually, letting the amber liquid catch the light. Her lips brushed the rim slowly, savoring it, but it wasn’t the taste he noticed—it was the deliberate motion, the way her eyes found his in that instant, holding his gaze just long enough to make him aware of the tension. The softness of her lips, the faint trace of moisture, combined with that daring glance, sent a ripple through him he couldn’t ignore.
He tried to look away, to focus on the conversation, but every movement she made was a challenge, an invitation cloaked as casual gesture. The subtle licking of her lips, the way her tongue lingered on the glass, carried more than thirst—it carried awareness of him, of the way his eyes tracked her every motion. There was no overt invitation, but the daring in her gaze said everything. He felt trapped in the quiet pull of her teasing, aware that she controlled the moment without saying a word.
By the time she lowered the glass, the air between them was charged. Her eyes softened just slightly, as though testing his reaction, letting him know she had noticed how much his attention had followed her. She didn’t need to touch him; her movements and the intent in her gaze were enough. That single moment left him wanting more, tangled in desire ignited by something as simple as a tongue tracing the rim of a glass.