She lifted her gaze—just slightly—and found it resting upon the line of his throat, the subtle rise and fall of his Adam's apple.
For reasons she herself could not fathom, she swallowed dryly.
The motion was small, instinctive, but betraying.
The moment she realized what she had done, a flush surged to her face. Mortified, she quickly lowered her head, not daring to meet his eyes.
How could she have behaved so… improperly?
If he had noticed, he would surely mock her without mercy.
Yet Rhaegar had noticed.
He felt every shift in her breath, every tremor of her body—yet he chose not to expose her fluster. Instead, he lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss to her hair.
Then lower still—until his lips found hers.
Caelith leaned back against the cool, stone wall, her body yielding despite herself as he drew her into the warmth of his kiss.
Her breath grew uneven, shallow—a soft, helpless tremor escaping her lips.
"Rhaegar… don't… please, let me go…"
"I won't," he murmured.
