When she held the panties out—plain, slightly damp from the day's exertions, carrying that same intoxicating scent—he took them reverently, his fingers brushing hers for a fleeting second that sent a spark up his arm.
He stuffed them quickly into his bag alongside the bra, the illicit treasures nestling together in the depths.
He could hardly think, hardly breathe through the fog of arousal.
He knew she wasn't flustered, wasn't even treating this as sexual—just a transaction, cold and pragmatic.
But for him?
It was insane.
It was ecstasy, a rush that left him lightheaded and craving more.
"I guess…" Lor managed, trying for a casual tone though his voice came out hoarse and strained, like he'd run a mile, "…I made an impulsive mistake with that deal."
Ameth didn't even blink, her expression as unchanging as carved stone. "No backsies."
Lor laughed softly, the sound defeated but genuine, echoing lightly through the trees. "Fair enough."
