Riven expected him to release his wrist, to stammer out some apology—but instead, Eli's other hand pressed flat to his chest, warm even through the fabric of his shirt.
"Sit," Eli said, voice small but steady.
Riven's mouth parted. For a second, just a fraction of a second, he felt genuinely startled. Was this the Eli he knew? Definitely not!
Then, curiosity curling low in his stomach, he let Eli push him back down into the chair.
Eli followed, leaning over him, pink eyes wide and bright. For all his embarrassment, there was something different in his expression—an intent focus that Riven hadn't seen before.
"Are you saying I'm lying?" Eli asked. His voice was hushed, but it wasn't shaky anymore.
Riven's pulse jumped. He couldn't help it.
For a moment, he just looked at Eli, struck by how lovely he was up close: his long lashes fanning across flushed cheeks, the delicate pink mouth. His hand—still pressed to Riven's chest—was trembling slightly, but the rest of him wasn't.
