She didn't move. She didn't have to. Thoronir came to her, and she lowered her lashes as his hands went to her chest. She released a soft breath, one that would tickle his lips, before her hands wrapped around him, raking into his hair and pulling him into a kiss powerful enough she wanted it to be a challenge to the gods.
How dare they give her the sign to become some temple rotting priestess. She had too many dreams, too many ambitions, and too many unchallenged feelings for the man she kissed. Hands hungrily roved his warm body, feeling every crevice, every solid muscle.
And as she moved, parting her legs just a little, she felt the need of his sex, too, as she slipped her heat along it, and deepened her kiss.