Fire could burn, and Isabela had been burned by it in the past, but there was no fun if one didn't tempt the flame to take them whole and threaten to consume them. She'd much rather go all out and go out in a blaze than settle for some pitiful little sputtering of sparks. The Rivaini far preferred chance, and she took no prisoners while playing it. Jaime may not be conquered quite like she wanted, but she would let herself burn and try to burn him in the process. Taking the safe road wasn't her style, and she had the sense it wasn't Jaime's either.
Oh she could feel his need, his want when she sat on his lap. She could feel her own, wanting to feel his skin against hers, feel him between her legs. But every move was part of a larger war, a struggle for power. Jaime would counter, she knew it, and she would be ready for when he did. At least that's what her brain said now. Her body may say different later on. But she wasn't thinking that far ahead. In fact, she was bare thinking beyond the present moment. When he finally put his hands on her, her body arched at his touch, accentuating her curves even more, in turn causing her to hips to press down. She felt a familiar hardness there, and oh she enjoyed that. She was getting the response she wanted.
And then another command. Did he think himself a king now? Oh that wouldn't do.
"Says the knight who isn't a gentleman. Does a simple corset defeat you, my lord, that you order me to take it off?" Of course she knew he wanted to see if she'd ever take a command, though he probably also wanted to see what was beneath the corset, but she wasn't relinquishing anything. Perhaps if they teased each other enough, they'd just come down to the ripping off of clothes and that would be that.
Jaime Lannister was incredibly frustrating when he wanted to be. But it only made the chase to the prize that much better, and the prize would only be better with each passing moment. Which was the exact reason she was even here to begin with, to prove just that.