He bit down on his lower lip, hard. A rush of emotions flooded. Like he was being pelted by a hundred jabs with the thick wooden swords they used for training.
“If I could love her into safety, I would.”
“Being different makes you special. Your powers are part of who you are.”
She gently slid her hands up his arm over each ripple of muscle. Her fingers danced across his skin with such delicate speed.
Alzerion locked eyes with hers. She watched carefully as he bit his lower lip. She couldn’t help but think that they were inviting her in. Kissable. That is how she described them. Every time he laughed or smirked or just spoke, it was like they were inviting her in; like magnets.
“If I didn’t want you to kiss me I wouldn’t have let you.”
He was drowning—drowning in a sea of pleasure.
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