"You don't have to hold quite so tightly. I'm not going to drop you," Luke murmured, a hint of amusement in his breath as it tickled my ear.
I was back in his arms, soaring through the night sky, clutching his neck in a death grip. I hadn't had time to be embarrassed before, caught up in the swirling tempest of emotion that followed our kiss. But now, the full weight of that moment bore down on me, crushing me from the inside out. I hid my face against his chest, whimpering as my face burned, my tail curling and uncurling around his arm.
Luke had kissed me. He'd claimed what Soltair, Alex, and even Lord Byron had sought, breezing right through my defenses like they'd been nothing. Even worse, I'd wanted him to. I'd been disappointed when he'd pulled away. How could I face him, when the feel of his arms around me wasn't enough? When I now yearned for more?
