Page 78 of Star Claimed Omega
Her breath hitched. One arm braced. Then the other.
Every muscle protested. Her legs were weak under her, and her balance was off. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, refusing to make a sound.
She could not be seen in this state.
Not by him.
Grunting, she pushed up, her knees wobbling, and straightened her shirt, shaking her hands to flatten the hem.
She had just sat on a dining chair and tugged her hair back from her flushed cheeks when she caught the resonance of his heavy, booted footfalls on the exterior stairs, prowling on the terrace, heading to the door.
Her pulse spiked as the solid oak frame slid open.
He stepped in like a storm, broad-shouldered and dusky in the falling gold of the dusklight, only to stop cold as his gaze landed on her.
His head tilted, dark brows pulling together. ‘You okay,cariño?’
She nodded, but he was already crossing to her.
His arms came around her, strong and sure, and she tensed against the instinct to flinch.
He held her steady, one palm curling behind her back, the other at her waist.
‘Easy there,’ he murmured, in a husky rasp that melted through her defenses. ‘You’re shaking. What’s wrong?’
She exhaled, not realizing until then that she’d been holding her breath.
Her voice wavered as she offered the lie. ‘Long day. While I might have recovered somewhat from my little escapade, I still have to build my strength.’
He nodded, studying her face, and she caught a flash of quiet worry. ‘Of course. Then let me take care of you today, like you did for me yesterday.’
Before she could respond, he was already guiding her to the couch.
She sank into the cushions, overwhelmed by fatigue and the urge to be taken care of.
The soft lap of lake water whispered through the open windows, as dusklight bled orange and plum across the wooden floor.
Santi knelt in front of her, his lips pressed together as he cradled her ankle, slipping off one sock and then the other, baring her feet.
Her eyes tracked the dark stubble on his jaw.
The fall of his hair on his sculpted cheek, those lush lips, the way he bit his tongue in concentration, breathing in his manliness and musk.
His thumbs circled her arches with surprising tenderness.
She gasped, then sighed, as the ache in her joints eased, replaced with a slow-burning warmth that spread from her heels to her spine.
She let her head slump back, eyes fluttering closed, her breath finally slowing.
The world narrowed to just this: his hands on her skin.
The gentle trace of the lake’s wind on her cheeks.
The scorching of his presence between her knees.
Minutes passed in silence, sacred and leisurely.
She sank into his massage, savoring the heat of his kneading touch on hers, until her nerves began to prickle.
