"There is… truly nothing," she insisted, though her voice had softened.
Still not convinced, his hand slid downward from her chin to the slender curve of her waist. At his touch, her body shivered once more. She struggled faintly, yet his hold only tightened, firm and unyielding.
"Still not going to tell me?" His lips brushed hers again, this time with a sharper edge. "My patience is not without end, my lady."
Before she could answer, he claimed her mouth fully—his kiss deepening, breaking past the last fragile barrier between them. Breath mingled with breath, warmth entangled with warmth, until the very air between them seemed to burn.
Without thinking, Caelith's arms rose, circling his neck, drawing herself closer into his hot embrace.
The silence of the chamber grew thick, laden with heat and unspoken longing.
Then—suddenly—Rhaegar's hand moved, tugging at the fastening of her robe, loosening the fabric just enough to reveal the pale silk beneath.
