But as much as his voice, his touch, and his words offered a release, a fleeting sanctuary from the chaos roiling within my body, the journalist in me floated to the surface.
I shifted in his lap, pulling away just enough to look into those smoldering grey eyes. "You talk about showing me a world I never knew existed, Lachlan," I said softly but resolutely, my voice still rasping with the remnants of pleasure. "But what are you really asking of me? To put my world on hold? To let go of what I've built?"
There was no animosity in my words—just a quiet plea for honesty. A need to know exactly what this was between us.
He shifted slightly beneath me, and his fingers stopped tracing lazy shapes across my skin, his hand instead coming to rest on my lower back, his thumb brushing with intenti
