Beneath the solid weight of Bruin’s hand, Eva shifted, sensing his distraction.

Did he realize how close he was standing? His knees bumped against hers, rustling her velvet skirts. She could see the individual stitches on his surcoat: satin stitch, chain stitch, making up one of the embroidered lions, the gold thread interspersed with blue. A labor of love.

A bolt of longing shot through her; earthy and visceral. Her mouth parted in a silent gasp, air pleating her chest. His nearness acted like a balm: soothing her frayed nerves, easing out the tension in her back. But in truth, it did far more than that. A kernel of need grew at the base of her belly, slowly at first, like a newborn fire, smoking and spitting, until it burst into flame, incandescent. A wild insanity ripped along her veins, a primal yearning that stretched every sinew in her body to near breaking point, vibrating and aware. If only she could lean into him, rest her head against his chest and squeeze him tight to her. And more.