Killian puts his mouth next to my ear, and when he whispers, it feels like words written in breaths. So low even Peter can’t hear in the front seat. “I need to be inside you, Sylvie. I need to make you my wife.” Goose bumps cascade across my skin as a wave of heat pummels me from the inside. Squirming in my seat, I turn toward him and find his mouth with my lips. The kiss is all the answer he needs. Yes. Yes. Yes.
