A kiss?
Silas Thorne's hand was still cupping the back of her neck. She could clearly feel the web of his thumb and forefinger against her skin, the light scrape of his faint calluses kindling a wave of heat.
They were so close, their breaths mingling...
The heat spread, the air seeming to crackle with sparks that seared every nerve in her body.
"Hmm?" Silas Thorne stared at her intently. His gaze was gentle, yet it burned her, as if...
She had stepped into a sea of fire.
"Joyce, may I?" he asked, his voice restrained. It was a question, but it also sounded like an urge.
Joyce Monroe's heart pounded in her chest. Her hands, which had been covered in a cold sweat just moments ago, were now burning hot.
Her mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts:
'Is it because my brother is watching? Is this just for show?'
In the past, Joyce Monroe would have definitely refused. But now, a wicked thought had already taken root in her mind, and a voice within tempted her:
'Kiss him.'
