sof_ethan
Or it was his hand, innocently guiding her through the crowd, grazing her bare back, a touch so devilish, it burned not just her skin but her very soul.
Whatever the reason, Alya shouldn't have been standing so close to him-shouldn't have been shoulder to shoulder, almost touching. She shouldn't have found herself admiring his profile, the sharp lines of his jaw.
And, as the last domino fell, Alya shouldn't have closed her eyes. Because in that exact moment, with her eyes shut, her senses sharpened. His scent-wood, whiskey, and something unique, something belonging only to Cihan-flooded her nose. That was when all hell broke loose.