He looked at their intertwined fingers – his hand large and blunt and burnished by the sun, hers dark and slender, a fine tremor running through it.
He glanced up. There was a vulnerability in her expression that cut into his heart. “May I kiss you?” he asked softy.
The question seemed to steady her, for her mouth twisted into a taunting smile. “You didn’t ask the last time.”
He tugged a little at her hand. “I’m asking you now.”
The smile vanished. She stared at him, while he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.
After several moments that seemed like a small eternity, she swallowed hard and licked her lips. “Please,” she whispered. “Marcus…”