Honestly, Ethan only took the risk of making that move because Arwen's base loyalty was already absurdly high: eighty-five points.
It was one of the highest values he'd ever seen in his entire life. A woman loyal to the very core of her being.
Arwen wasn't much shorter than he was; her eyes rested just a few centimeters below his own.
When he pulled her against him, her breasts—too large and too perfect to belong to a mere human, surpassing even those of Ophelia and Elena—mashed softly against his chest, their generous fullness squishing under the pressure of his hold.
The pillowy flesh molded around the contours of his torso, conforming to every line of his body as if made from the purest, warmest marshmallow.
The sensation was divine. Like embracing two warm silk pillows, with her puffy nipples pressing into his chest through the thin, pure fabric of her white dress.
