70 Winter, 512 AV Gia ran her fingers lightly over Xadel’s skin, tracing the hard outlines of the muscles of his back. A faint dew of perspiration slickened it, despite the chill of the room, testament to the rather energetic endeavors of a few minutes before. His chest was pressed against hers, his cheek resting on her shoulder, and she heard the steady rhythm of his breath in her ear and felt its warmth against the curve of her neck. She should just let the matter drop. Half a bell ago she had been literally in mid-sentence when his lips had closed on her open mouth and, well, she had been temporarily diverted from her soft arguments against his proposal. Xadel had an absolutely frustrating and wonderful ability to get her off topic – with a look, a kiss, a hand placed in just the right spot. But, the intervening interval and the pleasure that he could, and did, give her notwithstanding, Gia would have the last word in this matter. Besides, they were due at the square in less than a quarter bell – he couldn’t fall into one of those post-exertion snoozes that men seemed so prone to. Gia always found such activity energizing. And right now, her mind was formulating just what she needed to say to convince Xadel that she was right – and therefore, he was wrong. Not that she didn’t appreciate his sweetness – it was just that she wouldn’t let him do this for her. It just wouldn’t be right, no matter how he insisted. Her fingers traced back up his back, to his shaggy, dark hair, giving one strand a gentle little tug. “Don’t go to sleep, Xadel. We have to get going.” She wriggled about under him, tilted her head and brought her lips to his as she gave him both a kiss and a gentle shake. “Come on. We have a show, remember? At the square?” |