The space between them tightened, as if the air itself had drawn a breath and refused to let it go.
Theron's hand rested on her pillow, his face hovering far too close, his nose almost brushing hers. Aveline could feel the warmth of his breath, soft and uneven. Even through the bedding, she could sense the thrum of his heartbeat, and as she breathed, her chest rose and fell in the same small space as his.
Her eyes fluttered open.
For a brief second, she only stared at him.
Then the moment shattered.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Her voice was edged with annoyance, and rightly so. He came and went as he pleased, kissed her when he pleased, and now he was even trying to steal another kiss while she was half-asleep.
Who did he think he was?
Her chest rose with a sharper breath. He was still too close, so close that she could feel the force of his heartbeat like a quiet storm against her own.
Theron did not move back.
