When Bastian knots his fingers into the back of my curls, his touch is electricity. I shiver each time his thumb strokes the back of my neck. Falling back in the cot, I make fists in his shirt and pull his body on top of mine. His lips are rum sweet as I drink him in, nodding permission when his fingers hesitate at the edge of my tunic. When his hazel eyes catch mine, my body ignites. Bastian’s hands are warm and rough as they slip beneath my tunic, roaming the skin of my stomach. Exploring the curves of my hips. My eyes flutter shut as his lips find my neck. He alternates between peppering
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