" It is time,' he said, 'to collect on my wager.'

He moved slowly. First, his hands sliding round me and cool light-colored hair drifting against my cheek, and then softly, so softly, the brush of lips against my brow, my eyes, and then my lips. Once, twice, thrice, but not closer. The sensations - like starfire - that glowed through me chased away from my head all thoughts save one, to close that last distance between us.

I locked my fingers round his neck and pulled his face again down to mine. "

― Sherwood Smith , Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2)