Her breath was warm against his neck. Tiny puffs of moist air blew against his skin, sending chills up and down his spine. He was almost afraid to turn his head to look at her face, to peer into her eyes. What if as soon as he turned to look, she disappeared? He knew it was silly to think such a thing, but he couldn't help himself. He licked his lips, his heart thudding loudly inside his chest. He slowly turned his head, his neck beginning to ache, almost daring him to take a look.
"What are you doing?" Her voice was soft, and slightly husky. He smiled when he heard her speak. He looked at her perfectly oval face, his eyes drinking up each and every detail. Her eyelids were closed, and held that slight blue hue that she applied each and every day. He wasn't sure why she did that – she was a goddess among mortal without adding anything to her skin. Her nose was small, petite, and elegantly arched. It was hard to tell that at one point in time it had been broken. His eyes moved down to her lips. Her beautiful, imperfect lips. The top lip was smaller than the lower, fuller lip, which was slightly chewed on. He chuckled inside his head at that silly nervous habit of hers. His eyes drifted back to her cheeks, which had small, tiny little dots strewn across them. Oh, how she hated her freckles. His eyes moved up even further, to her brow, and her smooth forehead. He frowned at the pinkish scar that came out from her hairline. It angered him that someone would dare to hurt his beautiful angel.
"Lyude, really now. What in heaven's name are you doing, staring at me like you've never seen my face before?" This last comment of hers made him smile even more broadly, and he chuckled.
"I'm sorry, Lyra. I didn't mean to disturb you."
Lyra laughed, her head tilting back, her hair spreading out in the grass, creating a color contrast between the dark green and the swirls of her chocolate brown hair. "You make me laugh, Lyude. You really do."
Lyude wasn't sure if this should trouble him, or if he should be pleased. A puzzled look came to his face, his brow furrowing.
"Don't think too hard," Lyra teased, lifting her head to bring her face close to his. "Thinking too much is a bad thing." She smirked a little, then closed her eyes and drew her face nearer to his, her soft, imperfect lips embracing his.