Li Hua shifted slightly, looking up at Mo Xing's seemingly peaceful face. His usually sharp features had softened in what appeared to be sleep, and she found herself momentarily bewildered by the absurdity of it all. Had he really invaded her private quarters just to fall asleep holding her?
Despite herself, she found her gaze lingering on his face. The nearness of him made her pulse flutter traitorously, and before she could stop herself, she leaned closer. His scent enveloped her—night-blooming flowers and mountain pine, an intoxicating combination that always made her head swim. She caught herself, suddenly aware of how intimate the gesture was, how dangerous this proximity could be.
She cleared her throat, "Mo Xing..." But he didn't move.
She cleared her throat louder this time, "Mo Xing?" But again nothing.
