Her eyelids felt heavy as he ran a claw up the line of her spine. They were so close she could feel the air shifting from the movement, a hair’s width from her flesh. He still withheld his touch from her. They were nothing. But he was her everything—and what made them dangerous was that he knew it. His breath was warm on her cheek, the only thing he let touch her skin as his face hovered over her shoulder. She waited for him to say something more. The silence held ciphers of truths that lingered between them, written in a script that neither knew yet how to decipher. This would not be the
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