After several tense moments of Graeme listening to something August couldn't detect, his body finally relaxed and he turned to look at her in his arms.
"What is it?" she whispered.
"Just kids," he sighed. Once he realized the position she was in against him, his eyes turned deeper and searching, and she found herself unable to look away. His dark skin and hair, the dips between his eyebrows that could so quickly harden with anger or concern, the beard that made rugged and yet soft the strong, angular jaw underneath.
She wanted to trace every line of him again, feel every angle. Something in her chest burned and began to sink deliciously through her abdomen, sending sparks of recognition to every inch where they aligned. A light groan rumbled in Graeme's chest as if he could feel it, too.
