THE KISS deepened, and with it, his supernatural energy swelled around them, not in a predatory way, but in a gentle embrace. It wrapped around Mailah like warm silk, cocooning her in a sensation that made her shiver in the best way.
She clutched at the fabric of his shirt, surprised by how soft the cotton felt beneath her fingertips, how human he felt in her arms.
His lips were warm, hesitant, as though every second he questioned whether he had the right to continue. But the longer their mouths lingered together, the more that hesitance gave way to hunger—not the kind that devoured, but the kind that ached.
Grayson drew back only slightly, their foreheads resting together, his breath uneven. His eyes glowed faintly, betraying the struggle raging inside him.
She grinned at him. "You're not so terrifying when you're sulking on a bench like a broody teenager."
"Broody teenager?" His brow arched, dark and incredulous. "I am nearly seven hundred years older than you, Mailah."
