Do.
The word crystallized in Phei's mind like molten steel cooling into an unbreakable blade.
Sierra's fingers were already brushing her collar, poised to rip it open, to bare those perfect braless tits for a split-second of calculated chaos before the scream that would brand him a predator forever.
But Phei was already moving.
Not away.
Not around.
Straight through her.
His legs launched him forward with predatory certainty, three long strides devouring the space between them like he owned every inch of marble under his feet. His muscles burned from the morning's brutal workout, but the pain only fueled the fire roaring in his veins.
The Dragon was awake—thick, heavy, insistent between his thighs—and it demanded dominance.
The look on Sierra's face as he closed the distance was delicious.
Confusion first. Then dawning uncertainty. Then the first genuine flicker of fear as her perfect trap began to crumble in real time.
