Page 104 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
My breathing syncs with his. My body, tense from fear, suddenly finds something solid to cling to.
After a few minutes, I shift again. My shoulder brushes his chest. He doesn’t move. I turn more fully now, pressing my forehead against him. He’s warm. Solid. Grounding.
His hand finds my waist—tentative, trembling.
He’s not making a move. Just answering a need. Mine.
I let out a shaky breath.
Then, without thinking, I nuzzle into the curve of his neck. My hand flattens against his chest. I feel his breath catch. His heartbeat is a steady drum, and for a moment, I let myself believe this rhythm is safe.
We don’t speak. There are no words for this.
He’s trying so hard to keep control, to not cross the line. But something in me wants to test it. Not to hurt him. Not to provoke him. Just… to feel something other than fear.
I lift my face and find his in the dark. It takes nothing—just a tilt of my chin—and our lips meet.
The kiss is feather-light at first. Almost accidental.
But then he responds, and it deepens. Warmth blooms in my chest, crawling down to my belly. His hand moves up my back, slowly, reverently. Mine slides up his arm, across his shoulder, until I can curl my fingers into his hair.
We kiss again. Slower. Longer. Not hurried. Not desperate. Just… real.
His hand lingers at the edge of my ribcage, barely touching the curve beneath my chest. He pauses.
I feel the restraint in him, the question he doesn’t dare voice.
I freeze, barely breathing. I don’t dare move, and now every thought in my head is centered on him. Like every night, his right arm wraps around me. My right thigh rests over his, and my hand lies flat against his chest.
Beneath my fingers, I can feel his heartbeat quicken.
And just like that, my thoughts spiral back to that night years ago… the one that got out of hand and ruined everything. After our scorching kiss, he’d run halfway across the galaxy. But tonight, everything feels different. We’re in a desperate situation.
We don’t even know if we’ll be alive in a few days… and I’ve dreamed about his lips so many times that I need to feel them again.
What do I have to lose? That he pushes me away again?
Boldly, I press my mouth to his—this time on purpose.
His whole body tenses, and for a long, terrible second, I think he won’t kiss me back.
Whatever I told myself three seconds ago… I was wrong. If he rejects me now, it will hurt more than I want to admit.
But I don’t have to wait long.
Suddenly, his lips crash into mine, and I tumble into a world of pure sensation.
He hasn’t shaved since he got here. A soft, patchy shadow has taken root on his jaw—rough but somehow tender.
When our mouths meet, I first feel the scruff—startling at first, then warm and grounding. His kiss is rough around the edges, a little wild. But it’s also full of tenderness, of longing. That familiar stubble scrapes against my skin, leaving invisible marks, a memory I never want to lose.
He devours me with the same hunger he once did, and the relief that rushes through me is overwhelming.
Our tongues find each other and move in sync, hungry and eager. For the first time in so long, I feel alive—even here, in this miserable warehouse.
We have to stay quiet, so I let my hands speak instead.
I explore his chest, his shoulders—muscles I’ve seen every night but now get to feel with my own fingers.
