Page 25 of Lorran
“You had another mate?”
She blinked, as if trying to remember what she said. “Oh yeah. Well, fiancé. I’ve never been married. Unless you count right now. We’re technically married.”
“By Terran standards.” A legal contract, which felt cold and void of meaning.
“On paper, yeah.” She brushed back a stray curl, exposing her neck just where it joined her shoulder.
His mark would be there, deep and for all to see. Only then they would be mates.
“Um, you’re staring. I don’t have a case of bed head, do I?” She patted her hair. “This is the weirdest birthday ever. Yay, me.”
Terrans gave tokens of affection on birthdays, along with confections. He did not have a gift to give and did not have any confections. The stockpile of ration bars did not count.
He remembered. Reaching under the navigator’s seat, he retrieved the container of cookies. Moving close, he crouched at her feet. “Bronwyn, I would like to tell you that I had these prepared for you, but I shall endeavor to be as truthful as possible. I possess these cookies by chance, but I desire to share them with you on your birthday.”
“Coincidence cookies and call me Wyn. Bronwyn sounds—”
“Odious.”
“I was going for old-fashioned, since it’s my grandmother’s name.” She reached for the container, then hesitated. “Not to sound ungrateful, but why do you have cookies?”
“My brother’s mate is Terran and prepared them fresh. I know it sounds unseemly. A male should provide nourishment, but she is family.”
Preparing and sharing food was an intimate activity, reserved for family or the closest of friends. Terrans had different views on sharing meals and food preparation. Try as he might, he had difficulty accepting that it was common for Terrans to accept nourishment from a stranger for currency.
Bronwyn—Wyn, he corrected himself—plucked a sugar-coated morsel from the container and chewed thoughtfully. Powdered sugar clung to her bottom lip, and Lorran had a powerful urge to lick her lips clean.
“Mmm. Tastes serendipitous,” she said in a low voice that went straight to his cock.
“Wyn,” he said, wanting to taste her but settling for the feel of her name on his lips.
She licked the powdered sugar residue from her fingers, holding his gaze.
He fed her another cookie, holding it to her lips with an unspoken invitation to open wide.
Her pink tongue darted out, licking her bottom lip before taking a nibble. Fine white powder scattered across her mouth, collecting at the corners.
He wanted to taste those sugar-coated lips, to savor the mingling of sweetness, chocolate, and her own unique flavor. Her breath caught in her throat, and their eyes locked. Velvety brown, her eyes shone with intellect and goodness.
He could think of no other word to describe that particular light or the way he felt at peace when she looked at him, like he was every good thing rolled into, well, a birthday present, he assumed. She looked at him like he was a gift, and Lorran could not recall a single moment where that had ever happened.
“Wyn,” he said, his voice thick, and leaned in.
Wyn
Oh, snap. This guy had nerve.
Those blue eyes darkened and Wyn suddenly understood the meaning of bedroom eyes. Was he going to kiss her?
Wyn swallowed her mouthful of serendipitous birthday cookie, barely tasting the treat.
Yes. Yes, he was. Her stomach flipped, excited and nervous and still queasy from the teleportation. They just met, then he yelled at her, made a dick joke, and gave her a cookie. What the fuck? That was some serious bull right there.
Wyn pulled back, holding up a hand. Her hand pushed against a wall of solid muscle. No doubt he could pin her to the back of the seat with ease, but he stopped immediately.
“Was that disagreeable?” he asked.
“You’re moving too fast for me,” she said.
