Avery’s Point Of View
I exhaled slowly, brushing my fingers along his collarbone, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath my touch. His skin was warm, like sunbaked stone, and his body radiated heat even through the sliver of space between us.
“I was having a peaceful moment,” I whispered. “And now you’re having me.” He caught my wrist and kissed the inside, slowly. “You were humming. Happy. I like you like this.”
“I like me like this.”
“I love you like this,” he murmured into my skin. The words hit harder than I expected. I blinked up at him, lips parting. He smiled, soft but wicked. “Don’t go all misty-eyed on me, Snowy.”
“I’m not misty-eyed. I’m just…”
“Falling for me harder?” he teased, nudging my nose with his. “Already done. You were asking to be kissed.”
“Was I?” His voice dropped, dark and dangerous. “You always are.” I laughed and smacked his chest, but it was hopeless. My heart was a mess of fireflies in a jar, wings fluttering with no rhythm, just wild chaos.
Something
