Morgana stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She stopped just inches from Andrey, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body, catch the faint, alluring scent of her perfume—something floral and dark, with a hint of spice. Her red eyes gleamed behind her glasses, and her tail swayed lazily behind her.
"At last," she murmured, her voice low and velvety, "I have you all to myself."
She reached out, her fingers tracing a slow, deliberate line along his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm. "You've given so much of yourself tonight. And now… it's my turn to receive."
Andrey's hand came up, his fingers brushing against the curve of her hip, feeling the soft fabric of her pencil skirt beneath his touch. "All that patience… I hope you're ready for what's coming next."
