But when she moved to lift him, her legs gave out.
The exhaustion hit her all at once: the pregnancy, the exertion, the sheer overwhelming everything of the past hour. Her thighs trembled violently, and she would have collapsed if not for the hands that suddenly gripped her waist.
Voss's hands. Steadying her. Holding her in place on his lap.
"Felicity," he said quietly. "You don't have to…"
"I said don't touch me unless I say," she whispered, but there was no heat in it. She was shaking too badly, her arms wrapped around his neck for support.
Voss's gaze softened. "You said it, you're falling."
She hadn't. But the look in his eyes told her he knew she needed the permission, needed the out.
"Fine," she breathed. "Hold me."
