Page 191 of Star Claimed Omega
His massive chest rose once, and he winced as if the gesture hurt.
Then he reached for her.
When their palms met, she tugged, pulling him to his feet.
Wordlessly, she led him down the corridor, back into her tiny room.
The door closed behind them with a soft hiss.
She led him to the bed and, without hesitation, pulled him down with her onto the narrow mattress.
He shrugged off his cloak and toe-d off his boots before sinking in beside her.
He scarcely fit, broad shoulders crowding the space, but he curled his frame as small as it could go.
Still, not one word was uttered between them.
When she turned to face him, he mirrored her, the cramped cot drawing them so close their breaths mingled.
Her hand lifted, hesitant but aching to touch him.
She brushed her fingers across his cheek, relearning the shape of him.
His breath hitched, and he shuddered, but still she went on, and he took an inhale, allowing her exploration.
His skin was warm, as her caress slid to the broad forehead softened by strands of his amethyst and sable hair.
She smoothed them back as her gaze traced the ridge of his aquiline nose. One that gave him a noble profile.
His cheeks were more sunken now, his cheekbones more pronounced, the angles of his face more severe.
His lips were still full, still lush, still maddeningly sensual.
Fokk, she missed them, and how they used to whisper ‘mi sol’ into her collarbone and nape, making her tremble with need.
Her thumb brushed against them now, and they parted, breath escaping in an exhale that ghosted over her wrist.
A rough-shorn beard covered his jaw, kept in check, but not with the grooming care he once put into it.
She ran her fingertips along it, perceiving the grit and heat of him beneath her skin.
And always, those eyes.
Those sapphire and violet eyes she adored, that burned with passion, fury, and fire.
They now heated for her, scorching, flaming as they took her in like she was his divine goddess, freakin’ undoing her.
Eyes that, even in their torment, never stopped seeing her ashis.
She swallowed and ducked her head, unable to handle their burn.
Her hand slipped lower to her chest, still muscled but more lean under his tee.
He shuddered, like her touch had unstitched a deep wound, releasing the bitter bile within his soul.
Then his hand rose, slower than hers, worshipful in its hesitance.
His knuckles traced the round of her cheek, the line of her jaw, the place just beneath her ear where her pulse beat steadily.
