She leaned in slightly, enough that the warmth radiating from her side brushed his arm. Not a deliberate press, not a full embrace—but close enough to send a thrill down his spine. The scent of her perfume, a faint combination of jasmine and something earthy, reached him before her movement ended. Every subtle shift of her body seemed choreographed to make him aware of the space between them, to make him conscious of his own reactions.
Her eyes remained locked on his, calm and playful, daring him to notice what she was doing. She didn’t speak, didn’t need to. The proximity, the heat, the faint brush of her arm against his side—everything communicated more than words ever could. He felt himself tensing, caught in the magnetic pull of her presence, aware that the smallest movement might betray him.
She tilted a little closer again, adjusting her posture in a way that brought her shoulder almost imperceptibly against his arm. The heat of her body pressed into the air around him, making his own skin tingle. Her smile didn’t widen, but the curl at the edge of her lips was enough to hint at her awareness, her control, and her intent.
Every subtle inch she closed between them felt intentional, a careful negotiation of space and sensation. By the time she leaned back slightly, the heat lingered, her presence still pressing against his awareness, leaving him wondering how much was accidental and how much was perfectly calculated. She hadn’t touched him overtly—but the message was unmistakable: she knew exactly what effect she had on him.