Dylan's touch, his relentless kisses, and the palpable heat between them made it nearly impossible for Ava to hold her ground. The fortress she had built around her heart trembled, urging her to give in to this burning desire.
Taking her silence as consent, Dylan let his fingers glide beneath her dress. Ava's body betrayed her once again—her spine arched, her toes curled, and her hands gripped the bedspread.
"I missed this so much," Dylan whispered. His hand traveled upward, his fingers brushing over her breast with reverence.
"Dylan," Ava held his hand, making him pause. "This isn't right. I can't… I don't…"
Her words stopped him. Dylan met her gaze, and in her eyes, he saw the hesitation. Disappointment clawed at his chest, but he knew he couldn't push her further. He reluctantly drew back. No matter how much he wanted her, he couldn't do it without her consent.