Ronan couldn't hold it back anymore.
For so long, he had locked every part of himself behind a wall of restraint. Duty, image, control—those were the things that had defined him. Even now, beneath Riven's touch, those instincts had tried to rise again, tried to cage the emotions surging through him.
And Ronan finally broke.
"Riven," he breathed.
It came out low, rough—his voice catching like it had been trapped in his throat for years. This time, he moved his body, he did not just move his neck to face Riven.
Riven responded just the way Ronan needed—without hesitation, without doubt.
He moved closer, closing the small distance between them until his bare chest was pressed flush against Ronan's back. The warmth of their skin meeting, moulded perfectly along each other's contours, sent a ripple of something electric through both of them. Riven could feel Ronan's muscles tense.
He liked that he had that effect on Ronan.
