She kissed him again and this time it was slower.
Deeper.
She sank into it like someone who had been holding her breath for months and had finally been allowed to exhale.
Her hands moved from his neck to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though she feared he might disappear if she let go.
Thoren responded in kind.
His free hand found her waist, settling there with a firmness that drew a quiet sound from her throat.
Hmmm.
He was not passive anymore; he was present, engaged, and the shift made Fidelia's heart hammer against her ribs.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing harder.
She looked down at him, and something in her expression cracked open. The confidence she had worn like armor since entering the room was gone.
What remained was raw.
"I was afraid," she confessed. "After you left. I kept telling myself it was foolish. That I was just another awakener you happened to cross paths with. That I would forget."
