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Dragon Lily, Sarah Blake Pic(s)
The air crackled with the scent of ozone and hot asphalt, a palpable tension coiling in the space between them as she revved the engine, a low, guttural promise vibrating up through the worn leather seat. His gaze was a physical weight, hot and challenging, sweeping from the determined set of her jaw down the sweat-slicked column of her throat to where her pulse hammered a frantic rhythm agat her skin. She met his stare, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel, the world narrowing to this strip of forgotten highway bathed in the lurid glow of their headlights. A slow, predatory smile curved his lips as he leaned forward, the heat of his body radiating across the scant inches separating them, his breath a warm caress agat her cheek. Her own breath hitched, a sharp intake of air that filled her lungs with the mingled aromas of gasoline, night-blooming jasmine, and the raw, musky scent of his cologne. The silence was a living thing, thick and heavy, broken only by the impatient rumble of the idling motors and the frantic beating of her own heart. He reached out, his calloused fingers not quite touching her, tracing an invisible line along her bare arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. Every nerve ending screamed with anticipation, a delicious, agonizing friction building in the charged atmosphere, a prelude to an inevitable collision. She could taste the metallic tang of adrenaline on her tongue, a sharp, electric flavor that promised either ruin or release beneath the vast, indifferent sky.
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