The kiss broke only because Liam needed air, and even then he chased Arik's mouth for another half-second before letting his head fall back against the pillow.
Above him, Arik was still grinning. That particular grin. The one that meant he had already won an argument Liam hadn't realized he was losing.
"You're insufferable," Liam managed.
"You climbed on top of me."
"To make a point."
"Point received." Arik's hand slid from Liam's waist up beneath the sleeping shirt, palm flattening against the small of his back. Warm. Possessive without trying to be. "Now I'd like to make mine."
Liam's breath caught at the contact—skin on skin after three days of careful distance, of Arik holding him through the worst of the heat while refusing to take anything the fever offered.
