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He obeys.
Mostly.
Because the instant my fingers brush the bare skin above his waistband, his entire body goes rigid.
I pull back.
“Sorry.”
He doesn’t move.
“Vidar?”
His magenta eyes lock onto mine.
For the first time since he stepped out of that statue, he looks genuinely shaken.
“Again.”
I blink.
“What?”
“Touch me.”
His voice is rougher now.
Lower.
I glance at his chest.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
He catches my hand, but instead of pulling me closer, he opens his palm beneath mine.
An invitation.
Not a demand.
“Please.”
That one word does something strange to my stomach.
I place my hand against his chest.
Warm skin.
Hard muscle.
A heartbeat pounding beneath my palm.
Vidar closes his eyes.
His breath leaves him slowly.
