Ren let out a high-pitched squeal that echoed off the high stone ceilings, her arms jerking up instinctively to cover herself.
But before her hands could even reach her chest, someone else beat her to it.
Syris moved with the blinding speed of a striking cobra. In one fluid motion, he was on his feet and closing the distance. His large, cool palms pressed firmly against her exposed, plumb breasts, effectively shielding them from the nonexistent paparazzi.
"There," Syris said, his voice calm and terrifyingly innocent. "I am covering them for you."
Ren froze. Her brain short-circuited.
The contrast was startling. Her skin was burning hot from embarrassment and exertion, while his palms were soothingly cold.
"I know how you get about decency" Syris continued, his thumbs brushing lightly against her skin. "I did not want you to feel exposed."
