"You are so cunning," Riven remarked as he got closer.
Soren's lips curved, slow and wicked. "Kiss me to show how much you missed me."
Riven huffed, but his heart thudded faster. The challenge in Soren's voice, the calm demand wrapped in authority and superiority, sent a shiver down his spine. Fine. If that's how he wanted to play.
"Don't regret it," Riven whispered, leaning in. "Remember, you can't touch me."
Just wait, you will be aching to touch me!
Their mouths brushed—just barely—a soft graze that ignited the tension instantly. Riven kissed him slowly at first, a test, an exploration. Soren didn't move. He let Riven come to him. His restraint was maddening.
Riven's hand slid up Soren's chest, fingers curling in the ornate fabric, feeling the ridges of embroidery and cold metal before he gripped tighter, using it to pull Soren closer. Their lips met again—this time fully, deeply. Riven poured heat and frustration and longing into it.
He kissed Soren like he was starved.
