Levan had not meant to pull her in so tightly. He only intended to lower his arms, perhaps let her step close if she wished. But the moment her small frame brushed against him, something in him gave way, like a bowstring finally slackening after being drawn too long.
Before he could think, his arms wrapped around her firmly as though he feared she might disappear again if he was not holding her with both arms, with his whole body. The embrace was not gentle at first. It was tight, solid, almost desperate in its quietness.
Ilaria gasped a little from the force of it, but she did not pull away. She softened into him, her warmth sinking through the thin fabric of his shirt, her cheek settling against his chest right where his heartbeat hammered too fast for someone who claimed to be "fine."
