Page 80 of Halfling
His cock didn’t help matters by throbbing painfully against his loose braies, but Orek could ignore it. She trusted him to lay beside her as she lost herself to sleep, and he wouldn’t take advantage of that trust.
What he could do was fill his lungs with her scent, let it imprint on his mind with the memories of her damp curls gleaming in the fire, the soft angle of her eyes and gentle press of her fingers as she’d applied the salve to his skin, and most of all the shadow of her figure under her loose nightshift, backlit by the fire.
The lush curves of her hips, the suppleness of her thighs, even the elegant arch of her feet were all treasures stored away in his hoard.
He promised his cock he’d think on them later, when he could work out some of this rampant desire with his hand and not risk scaring her.
Mollified, he clamped his will around his aching need for her and closed his eyes.
My female is safe, warm, and comfortable,he contented himself.Just as a mate should be.
Finally, it was enough to allow himself to follow her into sleep. Orek would always follow wherever she went.
Sorcha came half-awake, aware of a weight on her hip. Blinking blearily into the dimness, it took her a moment to remember where she was.
The fire had gone low in the hearth, leaving only the barest light to see by.
The figure lying beside her was too big not to notice immediately, though. Sorcha traced the large silhouette Orek cut against the darkness, that magnificent chest rising and falling with each steady breath.
At some point, he’d fallen asleep and rolled to his side to face her. It was his hand that had reached for her, settling on her hip.
A happy, sleepy hum escaped her, and in her half-awake haze, she couldn’t help moving closer to him. With every inch she came, she felt the heat radiating from him and was tempted to move that much closer.
She settled with a little space between them, just feeling his breath against the top of her head.
Sorcha reached to touch his chest and feel the heavy thump of his heart. It kicked under her palm, making her grin.
She’d just settled again into her pillow when she heard him take a sharp inhale. That hand at her hip curled around her waist to drag her into the curve of his body. A rumbling sound reverberated in his chest, and his head fell to bury itself in her hair.
Sorcha held still, wondering if she was dreaming.
Does it matter?
No, perhaps it didn’t.
Closing her eyes, Sorcha pressed her nose to the hollow of his throat, taking in a long drag of his thick male smell. Much happier now, she settled her head against his chest, skin to skin, listening to his heart beat just under her ear, and fell asleep again in his arms.
Snuffling at his ear was what finally woke Orek, much later than he was used to. Gray light seeped past the shutters, dawn fast approaching. Lying still, he took in the unfamiliar space as a very familiar set of paws kneaded at his shoulder.
The kit was up and hungry, apparently.
Orek huffed at Darrah, and, seeing that he wouldn’t rise to the bait, the kit huffed himself before going in search of something more interesting. A littlethumptold him the raccoon had hopped to the floor in search of better opportunities.
The warm softness beside him shifted, and Orek came awake all at once.
Laying in his arms, almost beneath him with their legs tangled together, was Sorcha.
Heart lurching as if it could reach out to her, Orek sucked in a shocked breath. Her scent hit his senses, and something like a purr rumbled up his throat.
Orek held perfectly still, not wanting to wake her. His heart thundered in his chest, and he held his breath, waiting to see if she’d wake, toss his arm off her, and retreat.
A little sigh escaped her parted lips, and after rooting about for a moment, Sorcha settled again, face buried against his throat.
Slowly, so, so slowly, he let himself settle back down into the softness of the bed and her. Unable to stop himself, his fingers twined in the ends of her hair, playing with the curls. They coiled and sprang around his fingertips, tangling like they never wanted to be let go.
Just the smallest tilt of his head down and he could run his lips against the top of her head. She was just as silky soft as he’d always imagined. He pressed an unpracticed kiss to her forehead, tasting the velvety warmth and hint of salt of her skin.
Head swimming, senses saturated, Orek indulged with small movements, learning her by inches. It was all he dared in the soft quiet of predawn, tucked in this large human bed with the woman he wanted above all things, but with every taste, he wanted more. Dared more.
