He wrapped his hands in the soft coils of her hair to pull her closer, and she made a small noise of surprise and pleasure. Desire roared to life within him. But so did shame. “I do not deserve your love,” he whispered, breath short, heart aching. He did not want to say it, but he would not mislead her. “You do not have to earn my love, Serapio.” Her breath was warm, her fingers gentle against his cheek. “Love is not a prize to be won or a sign of one’s merit. It is a gift freely given.”
