The Forgotten Vow (MM Romance)
“Avelin.”
He opened his eyes. They were deep, liquid pools holding galaxies of fatigue and hope.
“I remember it all,” I said, keeping my voice low. “The way you taste of sea salt and black tea. The sound you make here,” I brushed my thumb over his pulse point, “when I touch you just right. The feel of your skin under my palms after a day in the sun.”
A shudder ran through him. The scent in the room, already rich with our mingled cedar and jasmine, deepened, spiking with the unmistakable, sweet note of Omega slick. Need, sharp and immediate, arced between us, a live current after three years of disconnection.
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