Her sex throbbed with need so raw, so much so that she was sure if he brough tup the topic of him taking her in the battlefield, she would agree.
However, she was stronger than that.
Arella grit her teeth and clenched her fists at her sides, forcing the heat to remain in her cheeks and not seep lower, forcing it to not curl around her resolve like smoke and destroy it. It was not the time, she reminded herself, even as Varziel's fingers brushed against her lower back, playing with the material of cloth that covered her body.
His touch igniting sparks under her skin.
"Focus," she repeated, though her voice was slightly hoarse this time.
Varziel raised a brow. "Are you saying that to me, or yourself?"
"Both," she muttered, pulling back just enough to create a sliver of distance between them—a sliver that did absolutely nothing to cool her thoughts. Varziel pulled her back, not allowing her that breath of fresh air that she needed so painfully.
