Dael sucked in a shuddering breath. He tried to say her name, but instead of words what came out was a moan when his lips brushed hers, and then they were kissing.
Kissing.
He’d once kissed Damia, a girl in his village, when he was five, and Cerdic had told tales of kissing girls, how it was like dying and coming alive all at once, the world roaring in black and white and stars behind his eyelids and –
Flavia jerked back, her eyes wide, her expression stricken. “Dael, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –”
He reached for her. “No, please, again.”
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