Page 45 of Sixth
Her voice trembled. “And you test mine.”
His hand slid up her spine, fingers splaying at the back of her neck, holding her still as if another kiss might break them both. For a heartbeat, neither moved. The ship hummed beneath them, apulse that matched theirown.
“I’m done waiting,” she whispered against his mouth. “Take me to bed. Not soon. Not later. Right now.”
His control cracked like ice under pressure. “Emmeline—”
“I’m serious. Iwant you now, Apex.” Her hands fisted in his shirt. “I’m asking. Fully awake. Unafraid. I’m asking.”
The words he’d given her earlier came back as a key turning in a lock. His eyes blazed violet-bright, pupils blown wide. He lifted her with effortless power, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her the few steps to the sleeping shelf. The narrow space forced them close, the air thick with desire and the scent of him—masculine heat and something uniquelyhis.
He set her down with surprising gentleness, his hands already working at the borrowed shirt she wore. She helped him, desperate now, the fabric sliding away to bare her skin to the cool air and his burning gaze. He paused, drinking her in with an intensity that made her feel worshipped and claimed all atonce.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, the word rough. “Mine.”
“Yes.” She reached for him, pulling at his shirt until he stripped itaway.
The sight of him stole her breath—all hard, bronzed planes and coiled strength, the faint shimmer of his skin catching the low light. He captured her gaze as he reached for the fastening of his trousers, unfastening them in one fluid motion before stepping free. She followed suit, slipping out of the pants she wore, their movements deliberate and unhurried, each layer shed making the air heavier betweenthem.
The Valenmark on his wrist pulsed in time with hers, growing brighter as she traced her fingers down his chest, over the ridges of muscle, lower.
He caught her hand, brought it to his mouth, kissed her palm. “If we start this, Iwill not be gentle.”
“I don’t want gentle.” Her voice came out steadier than she felt. “I want you.”
Something in him surrendered. He pulled her against him, skin to skin, and the contact blazed through them both. The Valenmark flared white-hot, pleasure and heat spiraling through her veins until she gasped. His mouth found hers again, demanding, possessive, his hands mapping every curve as if memorizing her by touch alone.
He laid her back against the thin cushion, following her down, his frame a comfort rather than a cage. His mouth traceda path down her throat, across her collarbone, lower. When his lips closed around her nipple, she arched off the shelf with a cry that echoed in the small space. He lavished attention on her breasts, drawing sounds from her she didn’t know she could make, his hands steady on her hips to keep her grounded.
“Apex, please—”
“Patience,” he murmured against her skin, though his own restraint was fraying. His hand slid lower, fingers tracing the inside of her thigh, teasing, testing. When he finally touched her where she ached most, she shattered into sensation. He stroked her with maddening care, learning what made her gasp, what made her beg, building her higher with every deliberate caress.
She turned to face him fully, the air humming between them. Light slid over the sculpted lines of his body. The sight struck her breathless. For a moment she could only stare—at the curve of his shoulders, the strength in his thighs, the raw power coiled beneath hisskin.
Her hands trembled as she reached out, fingers skimming down his chest, following the path of muscle to his abdomen. He caught her wrist, then guided her hand lower, his own breath uneven.
The heat of him against her palm made her gasp. He watched her reaction with eyes darkened by desire, the air alive with everything unsaid. She touched him again, slower this time, atight, gradual stroke, learning the texture of him, the pulse that beat under her fingertips. The world outside the cabin vanished until there was only the sound of their breathing and the quiet crackle of want betweenthem.
Her fingers wrapped around him and he made a sound like prayer and profanity tangled together. She explored him carefully, noting the differences—the impressive mounds alonghis length that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the Valenmark, the way his body responded to her touch with an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.
“Emmeline,” he growled, thrusting into her fist. “If you continue, this will end before it begins.”
She smiled, fierce and wanting. “Then don’t make me wait.”
Instantly, he swept her hand aside and positioned himself between her thighs, his eyes locked on hers. “This will bind us further,” he said, voice tight with restraint. “The Valenmark reacts to choice and connection. When we come together in full awareness—body, heart, and will—it draws us closer, merges our life forces. The mark will deepen. There is no undoing what comes next.”
“I choose this.” She cupped his face, pulled him down for a kiss. “I choose you.”
The words released him. He entered her slowly, carefully, giving her body time to adjust to the fullness. The mounds she’d stroked pulsed against her inner walls, creating friction and pleasure in equal measure. She gasped at the sensation, at the strange rightness of having him insideher.
“Breathe,” he commanded softly, holding still despite the tremor running through him. “Let your body accept mine.”
She focused on her breathing, on relaxing into the stretch and burn. The Valenmark flared between them, and suddenly the discomfort eased. Warmth flooded through her, the mark somehow smoothing the way, making space where there had been resistance.
“Better?” His voice was strained.
“Yes. Move. Please move.”
