There she went, saying his name again. The first time it had been on her tongue, she’d been sobbing, but even then it felt too visceral, too intimate, and shortly after she had repeated it as a soft plea, and that had—well, fuck, it had done a number of things to him, none of which he cared to think on too long. Very few called him by his given name, but even now as she chastised him, it was like she were whispering it directly into his chest, making the muscles there tighten around her voice and hold it still so it couldn’t escape.
