Gray looked up at her flushed face for a moment, his expression warm despite the faint teasing glint in his eyes.
"It feels amazing, Lyra," he replied softly, his voice was sincere in exactly the way she had secretly hoped.
"Your breast is so soft… and warm. It fits perfectly in my hand. I like it a lot."
A rush of relief and happiness flooded through her.
'He… he really said it nicely… I'm so glad…'
Her chest felt lighter, the embarrassing heat on her face mixing with a sweet flutter in her stomach.
She was glad he didn't tease her too harshly, glad he answered gently. It made her feel a little braver.
But then she noticed something.
Gray's hand stayed perfectly still beneath hers. He didn't squeez or massage it. He simply held her massive right breast, without doing anything more.
Lyra's brows furrowed slightly in confusion and a tiny bit of disappointment.
'Why isn't he… moving his hand? I already put it there… Isn't he supposed to do something now?'
