Without a thought, he snatched up another towel and hurried behind her. Touching her was probably a mistake, but he couldn’t help himself.
Just like he couldn’t help goading her.
“Such foul language,” he teased, letting his lips brush the shell of her ear as he draped it over her shoulders and squeezed.
Her breath hitched. “Yes, well…”
Brand rounded her again, wanting to gauge her expressions. To see if she felt it too, thisthingpulling them together.
Lunara bit her lip, and his blood roared at the sight of one, sharp fang peeking out. Then he noticed her hooded eyes, the lazy heaving of her chest, and he nearly bellowed his delight.
“Well?”
She raised a challenging brow, absolutefirein the look. “Well, I had no idea that your arse was capable of looking the way it does.”
The smirk that tugged at one side of his face felt foreign—too confident, too smug. The kind of look Lyriat would pull, the arrogant bastard.
Shite, Brand hardly knew who he was around her. Shameless flirtation was not something he did often. Or ever. He wasn’t even sure he was doing it right.
But, with her, it was like…
Like lazy days spent swimming in the warm sea. Like the tingle of rare, irrepressible laughter. Like the comfort of a soft bed after hours in his workshop.
Easy. Energizing.
Like she could make him forget every bloody thing trying to destroy his peace, so he could focus all of his attention on her instead.
Lunara nonchalantly tossed a wet clump of hair over her shoulder as if she were a queen, knocking the second towel loose and emphasizing her long neck, her bare shoulder.
Yes,his greater half crowed, seizing some of his control.Ours.
Burning fucking Solyrian, he had to get her covered before he tackled her to the ground.
Brand reached for the emerald linen dress she’d summoned, trying to convince himself it was for the best. That he wasn’t just looking for an excuse to touch her. “Shall I help you dress, Lunara?”
She turned her wide, sea-blue eyes up to him, the blush stealing over her cheeks well worth his audacity.
That gaze never left his as she nodded and shuffled closer—too much and not enough, all at once—but Lunara surprised him.
Her power spiked, the lengths of their hair drying in tandem with a wave of her fingers. Another, and the garment was gone from his hands, appearing on her body.
Except, it was gaping from neck to navel—unfastened buttons pulling the fabric aside, untied laces dangling from the parted neckline and falling beside the heavy mounds of her barely-covered breasts.
Sweet… merciful…
Brand was staring. Mouth gaping. Words gone.
Lunara placed one end of the ties into each of his hands. “I thought you were helping me dress.”
Fuck.
There wasno explanation for how Lunara had gone from blind panic to this.
Panting. Hot. Practically salivating.
It had started in the water, the desire to touch him overwhelming her. Every lap of the river against her prickling skin had been a sweet torture. And when she’d heard him leaving the river, the temptation to peek had been too great to ignore.
Blessed moons, what a sight it had been.
