Page 73 of Shadows of Stardust

I didn’t mean to walk in on Ros.

A careless mistake, but an honest one. I should have asked before I entered her space, shouldn’t have gotten so lax after the progress we’ve made over the last few days.

I didn’t even register her scars and tattoos at first.

My eyes had been otherwise occupied.

By miles and miles of soft, pale skin and long, lean muscles. By the curve of her hips and the gentle swell of her breasts whenshe turned to face me. By the thatch of dark, curly hair between her thighs.

She looked so fucking touchable.

I shouldn’t be thinking it, shouldn’t be running every detail of her over and over in my mind, but it’s impossible not to dwell on what it might be like to get my hands on… all of her. All those curves, all that softness, what I already know will be the impossible warmth of her.

Despite my best efforts, a rush of low, insistent warmth floods through my lower abdomen, hardening my cock in its protective slit.

Fates, I need to get a handle on myself.

Walking in on her was a careless mistake, but she might have thought it was deliberate. Even now, she might be stewing in well-justified anger and making her plans to kick me out of here and call this whole damned farce off.

Talk to her. I need to talk to her. I need to apologize and explain.

Gathering the scraps of my paralyzing shame, I toss them away and turn off the water.

I can’t hear any noise from the bedroom as I pull on my clothes, and a soft knock on the inside of the bathroom door receives no reply.

“Roslyn?” I murmur as I ease it open, met only by silence and an empty room when I risk a look.

Unease knots my gut as I walk slowly into the living space. How much of the progress we’ve made did I just dismantle in a few careless seconds?

The last few days have been… good, in some ways.

An absolute mess in others.

I can’t shake my lingering guilt over assuming the worst of her, can’t forget the sound of her tears or the blame that still sits heavy on my shoulders for my part in making her feel that way.

It’s made it damn near impossible to know how to move forward.

I haven’t been able to forget the taste of her on my lips, the warmth and the strength of her beneath my hands, the dark thrill of fighting with her and kissing her and using all that animosity as an excuse to be close to her.

But now it’s all muddled, a mess, and I might have made it even worse.

Roslyn sits at the kitchen counter, hands folded in front of her. She doesn’t turn or say a word as I approach and hover awkwardly behind her, clearing my throat.

“I’m sorry. I—”

“I’m guessing you didn’t mean to do that?” She cuts in. “See me naked, I mean?”

Her posture is stiff, words even stiffer, and my discomfort doubles.

“No. I did not.”

“And I’m guessing that’s not all you saw. Me naked. I’m guessing you saw my… scars.”

Instead of answering, I sink into the chair next to her. She shoots me a sidelong glance, but I can’t read it. I can’t make it past the closed-down, guarded expression on her face, so I simply nod.

“Yes, I did.”

Roslyn lets out a tight breath. “I don’t want to talk about it.”