The cool night air wrapped around them, but the tension between Pyris and Seraphina was hot, charged, and undeniable. Her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath as she stood so close to him that their bodies almost touched.
The moonlight painted her golden hair in silver, and her violet eyes, though filled with uncertainty, were bright with something far more potent—desire.
Pyris could feel her pulse quicken under his fingers as his hand slid from her waist up to her neck, gently tracing the line of her jaw. Seraphina's breath hitched, her lips parting ever so slightly, but she said nothing.
The silence between them was louder than any words could be. She wanted him—needed him—but part of her was still fighting the inevitable.
"Seraphina," Pyris whispered, his voice low and intoxicating as his thumb brushed lightly against her soft lips. "Why fight it?"
