Lily Martins didn't struggle when Jacob Cross carried her.
That alone was strange.
Her arms rested lightly against his chest, not clinging, not pushing away—just there, as if this situation were perfectly reasonable. Her body was warm, soft, and entirely too close. Jacob felt it the moment he lifted her, an unfamiliar weight settling against him that had nothing to do with physical mass.
Her heartbeat was fast.
He could hear it.
He could also hear her thoughts.
This is bad. This is very bad. Why does he smell so good? Focus, Lily, focus—get down, get down before you embarrass yourself—
"Let me down," she said softly, coaxing rather than commanding.
"I'll help you walk."
Jacob raised an eyebrow.
Help him walk?
That was amusing.
He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied her face from this close distance. Her lashes were long, trembling faintly. Her lips were pressed together, as if holding back words she didn't dare say aloud. She looked… composed. Almost obedient.
