His face grew grave—thoughtful. “I do not mind … being around you.” “Is that a compliment?” A half smile cut across his granite-hewn face. And she wanted … wanted to touch it. That smile, that mouth. With her fingers, her own lips. It made him younger, made him … handsome. So she reached up with trembling fingers and touched his lips. Lorcan froze, still half above her, his eyes solemn and intent. But she traced the contours of his mouth, finding the skin there soft and warm, such a contrast to the harsh words that usually came out of it. She reached the outer corner of his lips, and he turned
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