The feeling of his hands on my chest is a thousand times more electric than the feeling of his hands on my hands, and I find myself forgetting how to breathe—how to focus—how to pretend.
Why should I pretend? I’ve already left my entire world behind. I’ve already proven myself brave enough to let a unicorn pierce his horn into my heart, and to trust a man who can turn into a dragon at will. Why should I be afraid to tell Milo that I want him?
He starts to remove his hand, but I catch it with mine, then press it, slowly, back against my chest.
And then, even slower, down toward my breast.
A deep, rumbling moan escapes his throat, and before I know what’s happening, he’s grabbing me by the cheeks and kissing the daylights out of me.
It’s different from anything I’ve ever felt before. Wh
