When Ravyn stepped to me, he hesitated, the flush from before returning to his jawline. Our eyes met a moment. Then, as if he was proving something to himself, he reached for me. His hands, broad and firm, met me at the dip of my waist, resting a moment on my hips. They were warm, his hands. And I caught myself wondering what the calluses along his palms would feel like against my bare skin. He inhaled sharply, lifting me with ease and placing me on saddle.
