Joyce Monroe smiled sheepishly, her fingertips loosening their grip as she couldn't help but marvel...
His waist—
Taut and lean.
Through his clothes, she could faintly sense the defined lines underneath.
The kind that seemed incredibly powerful.
They were close, probably because she was afraid of falling. Joyce's breathing was quick, her breath landing on his chest and neck—soft, warm... and utterly unsettling.
The hand on her waist suddenly tightened. The moment their bodies were pressed flush against each other, Joyce felt her heart jolt. With every breath, his cool aura invaded, forcefully dispelling the last vestiges of her drowsiness.
"Silas, my..." '...legs aren't numb anymore.'
But Joyce never finished her sentence. Silas's arm suddenly tensed, and with a single hand around her waist, he lifted her clean off her feet.
Joyce's breath hitched.
The next second,
He had seated her on the sofa.
"Just sit," Silas said. "Are your legs feeling better?"
