Once they reached the bed, Urag finally cracked.
He kicked off his boots without ceremony, leather thudding softly against the floor.
One by one, he shed the heavier layers of his clothing, movements hurried now, almost absent-minded.
When he straightened again, he was bare from the waist up, skin still warm from motion, faintly marked by old scars .
He looked at her over his shoulders.
"Watching me like that," he said with a crooked grin, "you're going to give me ideas, sweetest."
Eiravyne flushed and looked away. He noticed, and chuckled softly, almost cruelly.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, utterly still.
She watched him move about the room with that same quiet curiosity she always had .
Her hands rested in her lap, nightgown pooling softly around her knees.
"Urag…" she began, but he was already moving toward her.
He lay back first, stretching out against the pillows with a quiet exhale.
