Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chance
He’d been wanting to kiss ever since he saw her standing there in the aftermath of their battle against the Bloods at . Her face and clothes had been splattered with black ichor, her spear dripping with the potentially toxic fluid. And all he could think about was getting to his feet, walking up to her, pulling her into his arms, and kissing her.
Here, deep in the night, in the semi-privacy of their tent, he finally allowed himself to act on that need. And from her response, she may have been wanting to do the same.
Despite his hunger, he dug his nails into the palms of his hands and forced himself to take it slow, take it gently. He didn’t want to drive her away by making her feel as if he was demanding her to submit. He didn’t want an obligated surrender.
