Iyana's head rested on his chest, hearing his heartbeat after so long. She had calmed down by then. Meanwhile, Vyan sat there on the floor with her in his lap, one hand resting on her waist, the other stroking the bare skin of her thigh.
She felt the gentle heat of magic radiating from his palm, swirling through the strands of her damp hair. The warmth licked at her scalp and the nape of her neck, slowly drying her hair without a single word between them.
A light chuckle escaped her lips. "It still bugs you when my hair's wet," she said, her tone playful, as she raised her head to look at him.
Vyan frowned—adorably, as always. His brows knit together, a hint of boyish concern on his face. "What? I don't want you to catch a cold," he muttered, as if the very idea offended him.
She laughed again, amused and touched. "You're so adorable," she teased, reaching out to poke his cheek lightly.
