Evie
Did you ever love her? Do you know?
There are too many tangled knots in her head to allow enough focus to see his reaction, or even to realize her own slip of the tongue. It’s another day’s issue. Here and now, she can only huff a laugh at his offer. While she hasn’t met Darkeye since the landshark fight, it had left enough of an impression on her to last a lifetime as to his character. “If you reach for anything but me or this food, you’re losing your hand,” she threatens through a playful grin. The hurt is still close to the surface, but his charm and familiar warmth and resilience is a burrow for her to hide in, a gossamer cloak with which to enshroud herself.
His stare, when given fully, is as arresting as ever. Her breath hitches a touch in her throat, but her gaze never wavers beneath his. As he comes closer she exhales a little shakily, perplexed to find it is because of excitement instead of nerves. Nerves that are surprisingly absent. Fingers flex restlessly over a firm thigh, and she tilts her head just enough to brush her nose against his slowly. “Is it the job of the person being comforted to come up with the manner of solution?” Voice heady, whispered. Lips grace his in a barely-there kiss before retreating to the scant distance they’d claimed before.
But Evie, for all her practiced coyness, has never taken to it naturally. No, she is far too headstrong for that. So she uses her hand on his thigh to brace herself, and slides out of her seat and onto his lap in one graceful motion. Still holding one of his hands, but resting the other against his neck; fingertips dancing across pulse and jawline, restless. The vantage point has her looking down at him just a little, and her grinning mouth kisses the edge of his own. “Should I be kind and give you some ideas?”
His stare, when given fully, is as arresting as ever. Her breath hitches a touch in her throat, but her gaze never wavers beneath his. As he comes closer she exhales a little shakily, perplexed to find it is because of excitement instead of nerves. Nerves that are surprisingly absent. Fingers flex restlessly over a firm thigh, and she tilts her head just enough to brush her nose against his slowly. “Is it the job of the person being comforted to come up with the manner of solution?” Voice heady, whispered. Lips grace his in a barely-there kiss before retreating to the scant distance they’d claimed before.
But Evie, for all her practiced coyness, has never taken to it naturally. No, she is far too headstrong for that. So she uses her hand on his thigh to brace herself, and slides out of her seat and onto his lap in one graceful motion. Still holding one of his hands, but resting the other against his neck; fingertips dancing across pulse and jawline, restless. The vantage point has her looking down at him just a little, and her grinning mouth kisses the edge of his own. “Should I be kind and give you some ideas?”
Or did you just never want to be alone?
