I pressed into him, like I could burrow deep into his chest. “Dr. Lowe.” His embrace hardened, locking me tightly with bars made of muscle and bone. “Greg.” The word was a plea and an order. “Say it.” I tipped my chin up and peered into his eyes. Saying his name would be permission. It’d break the feeble lock we’d put on our restraint, unleashing everything. Uttering it would be a promise of more. I swallowed a breath and found my voice. “Greg.”
