Phei exhaled slowly, the sound soft and ragged in the blue-lit quiet, carrying the weight of everything he was holding back. He lifted her head from his chest with reverent fingers under her chin, tilting her face up to his like she was something fragile and sacred he didn't quite trust himself to hold.
That beautiful face—flushed deep rose from the night's champagne and wine, eyes glassy with heat and trust, lips parted on a shallow, trembling breath. The city lights through the vast glass painted faint golden constellations across her cheekbones, turning her skin luminous, almost otherworldly against the deep navy dark of the room.
He cupped her face in both hands, palms warm and steady, thumbs brushing the delicate corners of her mouth with aching tenderness.
Then he leaned in.
