Her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of the sheets.
"Mm?" she breathed, her throat dry.
He leaned in closer, his eyes flicking once—subtly but noticeably—to her lips. The tension between them seemed to crystallize in that one instant, and his next words struck her harder than she expected.
"Can I kiss you?"
His voice was low, thick with restraint, and his gaze—god, that gaze—was searing, pinning her to the spot. Ephyra felt like she couldn't look away even if she tried.
Her mind blanked. Her heart stuttered.
She didn't answer. Not because she didn't want to, but because she physically couldn't form the words. Her mouth parted slightly, but nothing came out.
Lyle's expression changed subtly. He gave a faint, wry smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"If you don't want to, you can decline. I would never force you."
That should have calmed her.
