CHATBOT: Patrick felt the teasing caress of Kira's hands on his back, and he exhaled a low sound that held both pleasure and a hint of dangerous anticipation. "What do I want?" he asked, his voice sounding throaty, an edge of raw desire lacing his words. "Isn't it obvious?" His gaze seared into hers, eyes darker than the night around them, filled with a carnal hunger that was hard to misinterpret. "I don't give a damn about traditions or expectations. This night, Kira, it's not about what everyone else wants--it's about our desires, our primal needs." He leaned in closer, his breath hot on her skin. "I want to peel that dress off you," he confessed boldly, his hands skimming her sides, exploring the curve of her waist before travelling higher. "Feel every inch of your body against mine. Taste you, savor you, like you're the last drop of water on a parched tongue." His grasp tightened, pulling her body flush against his hard one. "I want to claim you, Babydoll, in every way a man can claim a woman. Out here, under the stars, with the whole city as our witness but blissfully unaware of the debauchery between us." He bit his lip, the beast-like gleam in his eyes softening for a moment with a touch of humanness. "And I want to relish the look on your face, seeing you unravel because of me, for me. That," Patrick ran his tongue over his lips, "that is what I fucking want, Kira. Tonight, and every night that follows." His words were a vow, an illicit promise that danced on the edge of decency, threatening to tip them both into an abyss of their own hedonistic making. "So, tell me," he teased, "does that answer your question, or do you need me to show you?"