"And why is that?" Kian asked, sounding exactly like a tired father already bracing for the storm his daughter was about to bring. His voice stayed low, but the weight in it pressed against Isabella's back where it rested on his chest, a slow, steady drum of heat and heartbeat.
"Well, because I say so," Isabella shot back, light and shameless. The words came with a little smile, a tilt of her chin, the kind of playful glitter she used when she wanted to make a command sound like a joke.
Kian's glare cut through it. One look—cool, blue, unblinking—and the smile slid off her mouth like honey off warm stone.
"Fine, fine," she muttered, clearing her throat as she shifted. She turned more into him until her knee brushed his thigh and her shoulder bumped his sternum, claiming space like it belonged to her. One hand came up and rested on his chest, palm spread across the thick muscle there. His body heat soaked into her fingers at once.
