Delphine's actions were entirely unconscious, yet caught by the man in an instant. Her fingertips trembled, and she tried to pull back, only to be held firmly as the man's deep voice reached her ears: "Sneaking a touch?"
Her hand remained pressed against his chin, his warm breath brushing teasingly against the soft center of her palm, ticklish and electrifying.
"No," Delphine denied swiftly, though her voice was soft and unsteady.
Ignatius Leclair narrowed his eyes, the sharp yet enigmatic phoenix-like gaze locked on her. Then, slowly, he guided her delicate, alabaster fingertip upward from the point of his chin, until his warm, thin lips enclosed her finger.
Delphine's fingertips went numb, her body betraying its reaction as his intense gaze sent her scrambling to escape. She hurriedly rose and stammered in a fluster, "Are you hungry? I'll go make you something to eat."
