Firefly Glen [m] Chaleurs

lorcan doesn’t wait for an invitation—he steps in, closing the distance between them with a sure, deliberate stride. there’s no hesitation in the way he moves, the way his golden eye rakes over her form, taking in every detail. she smells of heat and challenge, and he intends to meet both head-on.

i am not a man who wastes time. he murmurs, his voice low, the faintest growl lurking under each word. rest assured.

he leans in, muzzle dipping toward her neck, testing her reaction before he presses closer. his breath warms the air between them, the scent of her stirring a hunger he won’t bother hiding. there’s a confidence in his stance—straight-backed, head high—like he’s already decided how this will go.