"Hmm." A slow tilt moved across Zalthor's lips as his eyes slowly examined her face… he knew that this woman of his was a mystery, and just when he thought he knew her, she showed him another wonder.
Yeara's lips parted softly at the shock of what he had just said; it was like everything she had said and done had come rushing back to her face, heated up even more.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Zalthor's lips clashed onto hers. At the same time, his shirt fell slowly to the floor—she had been so caught up in her thoughts that she did not realize he had torn it.
Her lips opened more in disbelief, unknowingly giving his tongue more access to explore. His hands moved to her back as he slowly caressed it, guiding it to her neck, while Yeara wrapped her hands around his neck.
