Lior’s breath is warm against my skin, a soft caress that sends shivers down my spine.
His lips trail light kisses down the curve of my neck, each touch a feather-light promise.
“I promised to make it up to you for last night, little star,” he whispers, his voice husky with a morning tenderness that always manages to disarm me.
I want to do desperately be trapped in this moment, like the old times in his mountain cabin. I want to be stuck hopelessly in the charms of this moment.
But the images from that room, the cold glint of steel, the grotesque shapes in the jars, they’re still there, lurking just beneath the surface of my awareness.
I can feel Lior’s gaze on me, a knowing glint in his eyes that tells me he’s aware of my transgression, my foray into his hidden space.
Yet, he p
