Early in the morning, William woke from a deep, languid slumber, his body heavy with the remnants of dreams.

He stretched his arms slowly, muscles uncoiling like a cat in the sun, and turned toward the window. Golden light poured in, warm and caressing, painting the room in hues of amber and rose.

For a few breathless moments, he simply existed there, letting the quiet heat settle over his skin, calming the faint stirrings of his heart.

"Are you ready?"

The voice—soft, velvet-smooth, laced with playful mischief—came from his left. It jolted him like a spark against bare flesh.

He turned, and the world narrowed to her.

Emma.

Those deep blue eyes, endless as a midnight ocean, pulled him in with merciless gravity. Her silver hair, still slightly damp from the shower, clung in delicate strands to her neck and shoulders, catching the sunlight like threads of liquid starlight.

And that smile—daring, knowing, curving her full lips in a way that promised sin and salvation in equal measure.

"Am I dreaming?" he whispered, voice rough with disbelief.

Emma's left brow arched elegantly, a teasing challenge. "Oh? And how do I look in your dreams?"

William couldn't tear his gaze away. "Beautiful," he breathed, the word spilling out unbidden.

Every inch of her was a revelation: the subtle sway of her hips as she shifted her weight, the graceful fall of her hands at her sides, the way the thin fabric of her shirt clung just enough to trace the soft rise of her chest.

She was intoxicating, a living temptation, and averting his eyes felt like blasphemy—an unforgivable loss.

A slow, predatory smile deepened on her lips. She moved toward him with deliberate grace, placing one knee on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under her weight, and William's pulse thundered in his ears.

Like a huntress claiming her prize, she straddled his lap in one fluid motion, her thighs parting to settle over his ass she pushed him down.

The heat of her body pressed against him through the thin barrier of sheets, immediate and overwhelming.

Her hands came to rest lightly on his bare chest, fingers cool against his warming skin, sending shivers racing down his spine.

She leaned in, close enough that he could feel the faint whisper of her breath against his lips, smell the clean, intoxicating scent of her.

"Do you want something from me? For breakfast, maybe?"

Emma's voice was a low, teasing murmur, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she spoke. The words dripped with suggestion, each syllable a deliberate caress that sent heat spiraling through him.

William's breath hitched, sharp and audible in the quiet room. His hands, which had been resting tentatively at her sides, began to move with a mind of their own.

Slowly, reverently, his palms traced upward along the soft expanse of her thighs. The thin fabric of her skirt rode higher with the motion, bunching deliciously, revealing more of her flawless skin to the morning light.

Finally, his hands settled on her lithe waist, fingers splaying possessively over the warm curve of her body.

He could feel the rapid flutter of her pulse beneath his touch, the way her skin seemed to ignite under his palms, as if his hands alone were enough to set her aflame.

"Emma…" His voice came out rough, strained with the effort of weeks of restraint. "I've been holding myself back… just to earn your father's approval…"

Her hips shifted subtly in his lap—a slow, deliberate roll that drew a low groan from deep in his chest.

"Oh?" she whispered, lips hovering a breath away from his. "And what if you weren't holding back?"

Something inside him snapped.

With a growl that rumbled from the depths of his desire, William's hand slid from her waist to the nape of her neck, fingers threading possessively into her damp hair.

He pressed gently but firmly, guiding her face closer until their foreheads touched, until he could feel the warmth of her exhale against his lips.

His crimson eyes, darkened to a dangerous, bloody hue up close, bored into hers with raw, unfiltered hunger.

In a voice low and gravel-rough, thick with promise, he told her, "I would have pinned you to this bed the moment I woke up and saw you. I'd have kissed every inch of you until you were trembling, until the only sound in this room was you moaning my name—again and again and again."

His thumb brushed along her lower lip, parting it slightly as he continued, the words a dark vow against her skin.

"Nothing in this world would have stopped me from claiming you completely. From making you forget everything—your name, the daylight outside, every thought that isn't me. Until all you knew, all you felt, all you wanted… was me. Only me."

Emma's heart rate matched his as she stared into his deep eyes

She could feel the heat he was radiating.

She didn't arrive in his room to tempt him but seeing his disheveled state has ignited something inside her.

She wanted to tempt him, to dominate his mind and to conquer his heart..

However…now, it felt, the hunter has become the hunt.

Emma softly whispered, "W-We are in your room…A-And I am not prepared." Her voice was trembling, cheeks red.

William grinned at the reaction…maybe the first time he saw her blushing so hard.

His thumb caressed her cheek as he said, "What's the matter? You don't want me?"

Her eyes slowly widened as she shook her head, "No…it's not like that…I-I-"

*Knock*

Suddenly, a knock was heard and Emma hurriedly removed herself from his lap.

And before William could say a word, Emma left the room using the window.

Seeing how nervous she was, he couldn't help but chuckle under his breath.

Who could have thought that the same confident and teasing Emma can make such a face?

'Let's see how long you can run from me…'

°°°°°°°°

A/N:- There is some time before we turn into full r-18. Let me torture you with some edging.

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