Page 128 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
“Then show me,” I whisper, burying my doubts about Noviosk deep inside me.
Because it doesn’t matter what horrors we just survived. Or who didn’t make it. Right now, the only thing that matters is HIM—Ayden, who, after all these years of dancing around it, is finally ready to embrace this insane pull between us.
I run my fingers through his soft, tousled hair, loving the feel of it. My lips start exploring his chest—solid, warm, exposed just for me.
“Okay… I guess we’ll talk later,” he mutters, voice thick.
He lifts my chin, leans in, and devours my lips. But then he pauses.
“Shouldn’t we drop this dress first? It barely covers you, and yet it’s still hiding too much.”
I reach for the gauzy fabric, but he stops me.
“Is it too much if I ask you to keep it… just for me? You look like a goddess in it. But too many eyes have seen it already.”
I laugh softly and let the dress slide from my shoulders. It flutters down and pools at my feet like a fallen flower.
He freezes. His eyes blaze as they take in every inch of me. And it’s true—though we’ve been intimate before, it was in that dark hellhole. This is the first time we truly see each other.
His fingers trail over my skin with reverent slowness, as if afraid to break the spell.
“You’re even more stunning than in my dreams,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion.
I’m relieved—he clearly likes what he sees, if the bulge in his pants is any indication.
“Your turn to strip and let me enjoy the view,” I tease.
Before I can blink, he stands fully revealed in front of me. My breath catches. Damn. Compared to Frank, he’s a mountain. But I already know—experience has shown his generous proportions are not a problem.
“Feel free to take a good look,” he smirks.
“Should I remind you you’ve been shirtless half the time? I already know the goods.”
I slide my hand into his and pull him close. The fallen dress is forgotten. So is the rest of the world. There’s only us… alive.
His lips wander across my skin, mine returning the favor with equal hunger and tenderness.
He slowly guides me into the shower and turns on the water.
“Let’s rinse off the Arena’s filth. I’m still covered in blood and haven’t showered in days. We’ve got three minutes!” he warns.
I nod, and we step under the steaming jet.
Ayden lathers me up thoroughly, and I return the favor. Suddenly, what felt like a rushed shower now feels… perfect.
By the time the water stops, we’re clean—but burning up for each other.
He locks his fiery eyes on mine. My toes curl. His strong shoulders tense under my hands as he lifts me, holding me against him. His tongue follows the water droplets across my chest, and I moan, writhing.
“Ayden!”
It bursts out of me—half command, half plea.
“Right now, sweetheart.”
And then he’s there. No hesitation. No distance. Just heat and the weight of him against me.
Slow at first, achingly slow. Every movement deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment, like we’ve both been waiting forever. His hands trace me with a certainty that steals my breath, mapping skin he already knows but still wants to rediscover.
