Description

Lyra had always been drawn to chaos—the kind that made her pulse race and her thoughts tangle. She was a vision in motion: long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, the curve of her neck catching the soft light, a subtle sway in her hips even as she walked through the crowded room. Her dress clung to her in all the right places, a deep midnight blue that contrasted with the flush of her skin, hinting at the strength and softness intertwined within her.

Jaxon was chaos incarnate—confident, magnetic, the kind of man who seemed to take up the entire room without trying. Broad shoulders, lean muscle, and an aura that whispered danger and thrill. Every glance from him made Lyra's heart skip, every accidental brush of his hand left her shivering. She had no illusions about the fire that crackled between them, the silent pull that had been growing, threatening to consume every rational thought.

Their story wasn't about love at first sight—it was about the slow, teasing burn, the kind that left every nerve ending humming. Hands brushed, lips lingered near the skin, eyes locked across rooms—they were both aware, dangerously aware, that one wrong move could ignite something uncontrollable.

Lyra didn't know if she was ready. Jaxon didn't care. And somewhere in that unspoken tension lay a promise neither could resist.