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Summary
Vegeta grabbed Bulma’s hand to stop the annoying poking, and it was like he’d touched an electric prod, the contact immediately freezing both of them mid-shout, and he was drawn into the never-ending azure ocean of her eyes. The moment stretched on and on, and Vegeta thought that if he focused, he’d be able to hear the heart beating in Bulma’s chest. Her breath hitched, and Vegeta didn’t do anything to disguise how his gaze fell to watch her chest heave. He realised it was matching his own breathing. Her hand was small and delicate in his, and he clutched it harder, even though she made no move to pull it away.