Liia stepped only closer to him, releasing the seeds she still carried in the one hand, then steadied herself beside him. Her palm settled on his heart then slowly dragged down his stomach as she continued to reach into his palm.
“We shouldn’t,” she whispered.
But her pull was stronger.
Hell be damned. He couldn’t listen to it again. He needed her hand in his more than he needed air to fill his lungs. Her song, her soft sigh, her need for him threatened his already racing pulse. If she didn’t press her palm against his soon he might just break and take it for himself.
“Liia,” he rasped out her name as if it was a desperate plea.
“We’re going to…”
“Let them catch us. Let them know,” he said, sounding feral to even himself.
Her soft chuckle died against his cheek as he continued
