He lowered his head so it was beside hers and turned his face into her hair. When he inhaled, a sound rolled in his chest—one part purr, one part growl, one part chirrup. Ivy arched a brow. “Ketahn?” He placed his other set of hands on her hips, and they, too, trekked downward, brushing over the fabric of her skirt. They did not stop at the hem; his fingers dipped lower, to the bare skin of her thighs. They remained against her skin as he drew them up again, lifting the dress along with them. Ivy’s heart quickened as he raised the skirt higher, his palms rasping over her skin. His upper hands
...more
