Her lips were close enough that he became briefly, violently aware of them. Full. Soft. Painted in a shade that matched her gown and made every word leaving her mouth feel more dangerous than the last.
He wanted to kiss her right there—hard, reckless, shameless—taste her mouth in the emptying birthday hall, beneath black crystal rain, with Dravenna still walking away and half the world apparently conspiring to make him lose patience. He clearly did not care about the audience, he only cared that her lips were right there, close enough to claim, and that waiting even one more second felt like another deliberate cruelty.
Melissa stepped closer.
"Certainly," she added, voice lowering, "do not give her sleepless nights either."
Before he could answer, she lifted both hands and held his face.
