Third Person Narrative:
He bent his head again, pressing slower kisses along her neck, lingering just long enough to suggest desire rather than surrender to it.
His hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, his fingers spreading there with a deliberate firmness that sought to anchor her to him.
The gesture was possessive and deliberate, a reminder of a bond long promised.
"I want you beside me tonight," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "Not as a duty. Not as a formality. I want you because you are my mate."
She could almost admire the performance. The tone was measured, the words chosen with care, the pacing of his touch designed to coax rather than demand.
It would have been convincing to anyone who did not know him as intimately as she did.
Slowly and with deliberate composure, she let her hands slide upward along his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath her palms.
