Page 85 of Star Claimed Omega
‘Nada, really. Where are you from, Soleil? What’s your story?’
She shrugged, her eyes clouding over. ‘Nowhere, and I’m sure my boring past is not what we should be discussing now. It’ll dampen the mood.’
With a slight growl, she reached for him and made him forget, her tongue flicking his, almost making him weep.
‘I could kiss you forever,’ he murmured many minutes later. ‘But we both need a shower.’ A wry grin tugged at his mouth. ‘Apart.’
Her lashes fluttered. ‘Agreed.’
‘Not because I don’t want to shower with you,cariño,’ he added, his sapphire eyes sweeping over her, ‘but because I’ll lose all restraint if I do.’
She chuckled, smiling, and slid her leg away from his, the absence jolting his body with a traitorous ache.
He stood and reached for her hand to help her up. She came willingly, their fingers brushing, a hush of delight in their smiles.
Together, they gathered their scattered clothes from the floor.
When she padded toward her guest room, she glanced back once.
He tapped her ass, and she gasped, escaping him with a laugh as they disappeared behind separate doors.
In the steamy solace of the shower, Santi leaned his hands against the tiles, head bowed under the hot spray.
The water cascaded down his muscled back, but it did little to cool the wildfire still licking his skin.
He had been touched by thesacredtonight, got undone by it.
Fokk, he wanted more.
Not just of her body, but of herself: her humor, her quiet strength, her secrets and sharpness, the way she saw straight through his swagger to the vulnerable man beneath.
He’d never felt this deep, nor this savage, for a woman.
His soul had never belonged to anyone in recent years.
He now sensed that it had a home, with her, and her light and sun radiance.
The kitchen was redolent with the scent of garlic and simmeringspices, the flickering candles casting golden shadows across the smooth slate countertop.
Santi made dinner: seared fish in a peppered glaze, roasted root vegetables, and a citrus salad flavored with a yuzu dressing that woke the senses.
Soleil savored every bite, smiling at his casual culinary finesse.
Later, they sat side by side on the divan where they had made love, engrossed in a moody drama unfolding in slow, melancholic dialogue.
Halfway through, Santi rose poured them an apéritif, citrusy and herbal, with just the right kick and finish.
As they sipped, the film faded into the background as they slid into conversation.
They discussed books, shifting to debates over interplanetary trade wars, the pirate-led chaos in the Wildlight flotilla, and its fractured council’s attempts to bring order.
‘You’re a wonder, Soleil,’ Santi mused at some point. ‘A Cleaner extraordinaire, well-versed in political gameplay. What else are you hiding from me?’
She blinked, and a dark cloud passed over her eyes before a smile curved her lush lips. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’
Again with the fob-offs and mysterious hints at a former life she wasn’t ready to discuss.
He made a note of it but set his disquiet aside.
