Qingxue's breath hitched, trapped in the tight space between their chests. Her eyes, wide with shock, were locked onto the intense, feverish green of Jingyao's. His arms, despite his injury and exhaustion, were impossibly strong, holding her utterly still. She could feel the rapid thump of his heart beneath her hand.
But was it his or was it her own?
Jingyao's feverish green eyes held hers, shock slowly melting into an intense, possessive awareness. The air in the dim room thickened, heavy with the adrenaline of the ambush and the proximity of their bodies.
Don't move. Just don't move, Qingxue screamed internally, paralyzed by the sheer awkwardness and the sudden, undeniable spark of attraction. His grip on her waist felt dangerously secure.
It was the pressure of his tight embrace, ironically, that snapped her out of it.
With a muffled gasp, she scrambled back as if she'd landed on hot coals, pushing herself off the bed and over his body.
