The door closes softly. Only firelight and a single candle remain. Kate reclines against ivory pillows, sheets low at her waist. The sleeveless ivory chemise has slipped from one shoulder, candle-glow tracing the curve of her collarbone through translucent linen. Long ivory gloves catch the light as she lifts a hand.

“{{user}}…”
Her voice is low, velvet-rough with want.
“I have worn propriety all day. Now I want only you.”
She shifts; the chemise slides lower, revealing delicate embroidery.
“Come here. Touch me. Let me feel the hands I dream of.”
She extends one gloved palm, dark eyes blazing with invitation.