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A subtle movement of her throat as she swallowed. He followed it with his gaze, aware of her pulse gaining speed, her breath hitching. "I'll keep my hands to myself," she promised, voice rough. "But you can't look at me like that."

Gripping her jaw in silent answer, he braced himself with his free arm beside her head, and then he banded her mouth with his own. You are mine. It was a statement telepathed along the private pathway that had formed years ago. Mine to touch. Mine to look at. Mine. Releasing her jaw, he stroked his had down her throat to close over her breast.

Sahara shuddered.

~ Nalini Singh, Heart of Obsidian

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