"I mean it, Nina." Lucas's thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle against the sensitive pulse point of her wrist, the touch both possessive and unexpectedly tender. "No one."
Nina stared up at him, her dark eyes glistening with silver tracks of unshed tears that threatened to spill over at any moment. The heavy, protective weight of his words hung in the space between them, thick and suffocatingly close. Her heart hammered against her ribs so violently she felt certain he could sense it through the thin leather of the lounge.
The rhythm was erratic, betraying every emotion she desperately tried to conceal. She attempted to pull her hand back, but his grip, while gentle, remained an immovable anchor… a contradiction that somehow made her pulse race even faster.
