An exasperating chuckle escapes Cassian—it’s pretty obvious he just got into my head again. I hate him. Isn’t there a way to keep him out? This is a total mental violation.
“I don’t need to get into your head to know you’re sore.” For a second, I think I see a lascivious glint in his eyes. “You’ve been bouncing in that saddle for ten minutes.”
I press my lips together and stop moving, now fully aware that no gesture of mine escapes him. We’re nearly at the city’s edge when Cassian pulls the reins harder and steers his horse off the main path. We end up behind the underbrush. He dismounts in a swift movement, and I do the same. He ties the horses to a nearby tree trunk, and from the way he moves, I know this isn’t his first time doing this.
No words are needed—when he steps out from the
