Aveline waited.
For a moment, she almost pushed him away and told him he did not have to kiss her if he did not want to. The words rose to the tip of her tongue, sharp with wounded pride… but her heart would not let her say them.
She wanted the kiss. She needed it, more than she cared to admit. She wanted the reassurance of it, the proof that he was still here, still with her, still the Theron who made her feel seen even when he did not seem to know what he was doing.
Her fingers curled tighter in the collar of his shirt, and she closed her eyes.
That was all she could manage. Anything more would be begging.
And she was not going to beg for a kiss, of all things, from Theron. Theron, of all people, who had already kissed her before without hesitation, who had been brazen enough to tease and embarrass her and then leave her wanting more.
What was he waiting for now?
Had he grown fond of his betrothed? Had he decided some proper future now stood between them?
