The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the frantic, uneven rhythm of Nina's heart hammering against her ribs. She found herself sprawled across the solid, radiating heat of Lucas Grant.
His hands remained locked firmly around her waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of her shirt as if he were confirming she was real… flesh and blood, not some hallucination conjured by the late hour and his exhaustion.
Nina stared down at him, her breath coming in shallow hitches that she couldn't quite control. Up close, his eyes weren't just dark; they were a tempest of amber and obsidian, swirling with something she couldn't or wouldn't name.
