The kiss lingered between them, its warmth fading slowly but leaving behind a pulse that seemed to echo in Luke's chest. His lips tingled with the ghost of Ilyrana's, her soft yet assertive presence still imprinted on his senses. Half-lidded and searching, her eyes met him, and for a moment, neither of them moved, caught in the fragile, breathless aftermath of their shared vulnerability.
Ilyrana shifted closer, her hands lightly brushing against his arms. Her gaze flickered downward, then back up to his face. There was no mistaking the unspoken invitation in her expression, a quiet but clear desire to let this moment lead to something more.
But as she leaned forward, Luke gently placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm enough to hold her in place but soft enough to convey care rather than rejection.
