Lyra's POV
His skin erupted in goosebumps beneath my fingers. Every muscle in his torso locked tight, as if he was fighting to remain perfectly motionless.
I lifted my gaze to his face.
He was watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch. His eyes had turned nearly black, pupils dilated wide. The line of his jaw could have been carved from stone, a telltale tick pulsing at his temple.
I jerked my hand back.
"Sorry."
The apology escaped as little more than a breath.
"It is okay."
His response came out controlled, too controlled, like each word required immense effort to push past his lips.
We remained frozen there.
Time suspended around us while the water continued its steady cascade. The shower filled with thick steam. My pulse thundered so violently in my chest I wondered if he could detect the frantic rhythm.
Seconds ticked by.
Perhaps minutes.
The air itself seemed to thicken, becoming both elastic and weighty simultaneously.
