His jaw clenched hard enough that blood welled under one of his teeth. Vayne's head lifted from the dark halo of his hair on the carpet, his muscles tensing with strength and a wild intent, wanting to test himself once more against her body, against the pressure of her chest and the pincer of her toned legs...but he stopped. Did he stop himself? Or was it the pressure of Tifa's body that held him back? No answer was apparent in his eyes. None he wished to reveal, at least.

A breath flared angrily in his nostrils, but his chest sank beneath hers. He was a son of House Solidor. Some dignity yet remained him.

"Very well." He scowled. "You win."