Her eyes widened. The breath rushed out of her in a tiny, helpless gasp she couldn't swallow back if she tried.
Kian didn't flinch.
His hands stayed right where they were—broad and warm at her waist, thumbs resting in the soft dip of her sides. His face was maddeningly straight, that infamous stone mask back in place as if absolutely nothing unusual was happening between them. Which was a lie. A very big, very undeniable lie pressed firmly beneath her.
"Kian," she hissed under her breath, palms splaying over his chest to push, except she didn't push—because it was Kian and his heartbeat was hammering under her fingers and her traitor body loved the feeling a little too much. "You better let go."
"Why?" The single word came out calm, low, a little rough at the edges, like he'd swallowed gravel and honey at once. His blue eyes didn't move from her face. Not even a flicker.
"Because—" she struggled, cheeks scorching, brain blanking. "Because you will let me go."
