“It really is lovely,” she whispered. She froze, realizing her potential mistake. She looked up at Mal, whose eyes were already locked on hers. Maeve’s fingers lingered across Mal’s hand. His skin was cool to the touch, and his expression was softer than she could ever recall seeing him. He slowly turned his hand over, and Maeve instinctively ran her fingers across his smooth palm, trapped in his gaze.
Ehehehe
