Page 53 of Her Orc Healer

Chapter 15

Thistimewhenhekissed me, it wasn't gentle.

This was heat and want and hunger, the restraint of the first kiss giving way to something far more urgent. His tusks grazed my bottom lip, a delicious scrape of sensation that made me gasp against his mouth. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine with a skill that made my toes curl.

I should have been embarrassed by how quickly my body responded—by the way my breathing shortened or how my thighs instinctively parted wider to accommodate him. But there was no room for shame in the narrow space between us, just the overwhelming need for more.

My hands found their way to his shoulders, broad and solid beneath the worn fabric of his shirt. Even kneeling, he was massive—a wall of muscle and warmth that seemed to dwarf me. The reality of his size and his sheer physical presence sent a primal thrill down my spine.

His hand moved from my knee, sliding up my thigh, pushing my skirt up as it went, while his mouth traveled to my neck. The light scrape of his tusks against the sensitive skin there drew a sound from me that I barely recognized as my own.

Kazrek stilled for a heartbeat, then let out a low growl that vibrated against my throat. “That sound—” he murmured, “—stars, I’ve imagined that.”

My breath hitched, my fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. “Yeah?” I managed, already breathless.

His exhale was hot against the curve of my neck. “You don’t know what it does to me, hearing you like that.” His hand moved to cup me through the thin fabric, applying just enough pressure to make me arch toward him. “Knowing I’m the one who got past your walls.”

He shifted, rising slightly to capture my mouth again while his hand finally slipped beneath the fabric. The first brush of his fingers against my slick heat made me gasp into the kiss.

His movements were patient, learning what made my breath hitch and my thighs tremble. He didn't rush, didn't push. Just steady, mounting pleasure that had me clutching at his shoulders, my hips shifting unconsciously to meet his touch.

But as good as it felt—and stars, it felt amazing—I couldn't quite let myself fall into it completely. Some part of me was still observing from a distance, still worrying about Maeve upstairs, about the shop, about the cracked pendant sitting on the workbench.

About what this might mean tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.

Kazrek noticed. Of course he did. He always saw too much.

"You're holding back," he murmured, his fingers still moving in maddening circles that kept me right at the edge without pushing me over. His dark eyes were intent on my face, reading every flicker of expression.

I bit my lip, embarrassment and frustration mingling. "I'm not—I'm trying—"

He pressed his forehead to mine, his movements slowing but not stopping. "You're still carrying everything, aren't you? Even now."

The understanding in his voice made my eyes sting. "I can't help it."

His free hand brushed a strand of hair from my face. "Do you trust me, Rowena?"

The question hung in the air, heavier than it had any right to be.

"I..." My throat closed around the words. I wanted to say yes. But trust had always been a risk I couldn't afford to take.

He seemed to read the hesitation in my eyes. "Will you let me hold it for you?" he said gently. “Just for a little while."

My breath caught at the simple request. Not asking me to let it all go—just to share the burden, even if only for this moment.

"Yes," I whispered.

Something shifted in his gaze, a warmth and determination that made my heart stutter. "Then give it to me."

He moved with purpose now, standing and lifting me as if I weighed nothing at all. He set me on the edge of the workbench, papers scattering to the floor as he positioned himself between my legs. His hands were at my bodice, unlacing with steady efficiency.

"You spend every day taking care of everyone else," he said, his voice a low rumble as the fabric loosened. "Let someone take care of you for once."

The cool air of the shop kissed my skin as he pushed the fabric aside, exposing my breasts to his gaze. I should have felt exposed, vulnerable. Instead, the hunger in his eyes as he looked at me made me feel powerful.

His hands were large and warm as they cupped my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples with gentle pressure that drew a gasp from my lips.

"So responsive," he murmured, his voice rough with approval. "And so beautiful."

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