Page 52 of A Legacy of the Light

What little breath I have been able to get down in the last five minutes is suddenly expelled from my lungs like I’ve been sucker-punched in the diaphragm.

Tavish wipes his forearm across his head. Sweat runs down his face, coursing down his straight nose and chiseled jaw. Dropping onto his bare torso.

I didn’t notice the guy was half naked when I was watching the fight. I was too focused on how they moved and fought. Now it’s hard to focus on anything else.

I knew he was well-built from how he filled out his clothes. But never in my wildest imaginings did I think he would look like that.

His shoulders are broad, each one rounded with thick, broad muscle that shift with his movements. His arms are equally as impressive, with biceps so big I don’t doubt he could crush a watermelon with barely any effort. The cords in his forearms flex as he wipes at his face again, the veins in them standing prominent from the backs of his hands.

How have I not noticed that before?

His chest has a small amount of hair scattered across it, along with a few scars. His pecs move with him as he clears the sweat from his eyes. I couldn’t stop my gaze from wandering across his upper body and down his abdomen, even if I wanted to.

Below his sculpted chest, his abs go on forever. Row after row of perfectly formed muscle.

Christ, I didn’t know you could have that many!

They lead down to that V—the one that’s every woman’s weakness. It’s like a giant arrow that says, “yes, this is what you want. Down here. Follow me.”

His pants are much too low on his hips to be considered decent, and a trail of dark hair leads from his navel down below the level of his pants.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

How is someone that good-looking allowed to exist? It just isn’t fair. It’s one thing to be kind and funny and a prince. It’s another to look like that at the same time.

I suddenly understand why those ladies at court want him so badly. If you asked me to design the perfect guy, this would be pretty damn close to it. Elliot was attractive, but he doesn’t stop the very blood from coursing through my body at the sight of him.

Tavish moves with such grace and fluidity. Every step is controlled, measured, and calculated. I would have thought someone his size would be heavy-footed and clunky, but he’s not. He’s beautiful.

Snap out of it, Elsie! I scold myself. We’re in the friend zone, and friends don’t fantasize about licking their friend’s abs.

My internal chastising comes too late. Tavish stands before me, a smug grin on his stupidly attractive face.

“Elsie, you’re drooling,” he teases, reaching around me to get some water. He’s so close to me I can count every freckle and scar across his crafted-by-the-godsbody. His scent wraps around me. It’s deep, woodsy, and entirely too delicious, slightly tinted with the musky smell of his exercise. I have to fight not to take in a deep breath to get more of it. More of him.

“Eh, I’ve seen better,” I retort, trying not to let my voice betray my thoughts.

“Sure you have,” Tavish replies before downing his drink. He doesn’t step away from me while he gulps, giving me a spectacular view of his throat bobbing while he quenches his thirst. Even that movement has my mouth drying out. Maybe I’m still thirsty.

Yeah, you’re thirsty for a tall drink of Tavish.

Damn it.

Okay, we’re going to acknowledge that he’s attractive and do nothing with that information. Again.

It takes me a minute to realize that he’s stopped drinking and that I’m watching a bead of sweat roll down his collar bone to the pecs that look like they would be an amazingly comfortable pillow.

I clear my throat and pour myself another drink. Tavish chuckles, a deep throaty one that I haven’t heard from him before. The sound makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle. I’m glad my eyes are downcast since he would be able to see them widen at the sound.

“Training with Reyne then?” he asks, not noticing my obvious reaction to him.

I shake myself mentally before replying. “Yes. Figured I could do with some basic self-defense moves.”

Tavish’s eyes cast down to the bruise marring my wrist and the playfulness there momentarily hardens. He knows why I’m here.

“Aye, but what we didn’t know, is that Elsie has the fitness of a sloth,” Reyne chimes in, causing me to shoot a scowl in her direction.

Tavish leans over me again to put his cup back onto the table. He doesn’t pull away as he murmurs, “If you want any extra lessons, let me know.”