Page 76 of Broken Blades

My hand flexed against her back. Possessive. Deliberate.

She shivered again. Not from fear this time.

I knew the difference. And that knowledge landed like a punch I should've seen coming.

"This is ridiculous." Her voice came out breathless, defensive. Exactly the reaction I expected.

"It's necessary."

She tried to keep space between us—leaned forward slightly, shoulders hunched, creating invisible barriers her body language screamed. Amateur mistake. Made the whole thing look wrong.

I adjusted her. Effortlessly. One hand at her hip, the other guiding her shoulder back. Until her spine pressed against my chest. Until my arms bracketed her in, caging her between muscle and heat and the deliberate cage I'd built. Until she felt my heartbeat. Steady. Controlled. Trained through years of high-pressure situations where panic meant failure.

Hers hammered against my forearm where it rested below her ribs. Rabbit-fast. Uneven. Honest.

Her breath trembled.

I cataloged every micro-response. The slight arch of her back when my hand settled properly at her waist. The way her fingers curled into fists against her thighs. The tension bleeding from her shoulders in incremental surrenders she didn't want to give.

Too real.

All of it.

I ran one hand slowly down her arm. Light pressure. Deliberate pace. Let my palm trace from shoulder to elbow in a measured glide designed to ground, not seduce.

Her breath hitched. Sharp. Audible.

I felt it everywhere. Registered in the flex of muscle against my chest, the stutter of her pulse, the heat bleeding through fabric like an accusation.

"If you tense like that in public, it won't look right." My voice came rougher than intended. Darker. Threaded with warning I wasn't entirely giving her.

"I'm not—tensing."

Lie. Beautiful, transparent lie.

I stroked her arm again. Slower this time. Let my touch linger at the inside of her elbow where skin went soft and vulnerable. Watched goosebumps chase my fingers.

She melted. Just a fraction. Small surrender, monumental impact.

I felt every inch of it. "You are."

She swallowed. The sound audible in the quiet. Her head tilted slightly—unconscious movement, exposing the curve of her throat. Submission she didn't understand she was offering.

Dangerous.

My fingers drifted deliberately. Shoulder to elbow. Elbow to forearm. Traced the delicate bones, the soft skin, the tremor she couldn't suppress.

She went still. Held her breath like waiting for verdict.

Then…

I captured her wrist. Gentle. Firm. Wrapped my fingers around the fragile joint where her pulse hammered wild betrayal. Lifted it. Turned it.

Her pulse fluttered against my thumb like trapped bird. Frantic. Honest. Wanting.

Her breath stuttered.

I brought her wrist to my mouth. Kissed it. Soft. Slow. Intentional. Let my lips press against the exact point where her heartbeat screamed everything she refused to say.