"You're staring," she said, snapping him out of his reverie.
"I am," Lancet replied, half-blushing.
"Is that also normal?"
"It's mandatory."
He realized that she had not worn a bra. Either her breasts were incredibly perky—which they were—or her tunic had one perfectly sewn into it.
Espel's arms came up instinctively, crossing over her chest.
"Don't," Lancet said softly.
"I feel exposed."
"That's the point."
She held his gaze for a long moment, then slowly lowered her arms. Her hands rested on her thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt.
Lancet could see her nipples now. Beautiful pink lights, calling his lips to touch them. He gulped, controlling himself.
This was about teaching her.
"Good," he said. "Now lie back."
She did, her body rigid on the white sheets, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. Lancet climbed onto the bed beside her, propping himself up on one elbow.
