She knew that look. That was the look that meant he'd be pulling her into his lap later, burying his nose against her throat, murmuring things in that low rumble that made her thighs press together involuntarily.
Behind them, the training yard had gone suspiciously quiet. Half the men had stopped mid-drill, staring at her like she'd hung the damn moon and then set it on fire.
Voss chose that exact moment to step forward.
He moved with that quiet, rolling stride of his, unhurried and precise, closing the distance between them.
"Okay," he said, and his tone was low and easy, threaded with amusement. "I see how it is, little thing."
Her ears twitched. "How what is?"
