Chapter 11 #2
“Don’t be.” She sighed, and he felt it more than heard it—the expansion and collapse of her ribs against his side.
“I’ve spent my whole adult life trying to be the opposite of him.
I became a teacher because I wanted to give children the consistency I never had.
I bought a house because I wanted to stop moving.
I built a life that was mine, that no one could take away. ”
“And now?”
A long silence. “And now I’m millions of miles from that life, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see it again.”
He heard the tears in her voice before he saw them, but when he turned his head, the dim light caught the gleam of moisture on her cheeks. His chest ached.
“Emma.” He shifted onto his side, facing her, and gently brushed away the tracks of her tears.
“I can’t promise to get you home, but I can promise that I’ll make sure you have a home somewhere else.
Somewhere safe, somewhere good.” The words came from a place he hadn’t known existed, fierce and certain.
“I won’t let you spend the rest of your life adrift. ”
She opened her eyes, and in the dim light he saw the trust in them.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why do you care what happens to me?”
He didn’t have words for that. How could he explain the way she’d slipped past defenses he’d spent a lifetime building? How could he articulate the fierce protectiveness that rose in his chest every time she smiled, or the way her presence made the endless dark of space feel less lonely?
So instead of speaking, he kissed her. It was meant to be comforting, a promise sealed in something softer than words.
But the moment his lips touched hers, the passion that had flared between them with the last kiss ignited again.
She made a small sound against his mouth, something that went straight to his cock, and her hands came up to grip his shoulders.
He deepened the kiss without meaning to, his tongue sliding against hers, and the taste of her intoxicated him.
Her body arched against his, seeking closer contact, and he was lost. His hand slid from her cheek to the curve of her neck, feeling her pulse flutter wildly beneath his palm.
“Doren,” she pleaded against his mouth and he kissed down her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat. Her head fell back against the pillow, giving him access, and he took it greedily. She was so responsive, shivering at every touch, gasping when his teeth grazed her collarbone.
Her hands explored his chest, tracing the scars he’d accumulated over years of dangerous living, each touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. When her fingers brushed against the wound he’d sustained escaping the Ithyian ship, nearly healed but still tender, she paused.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.” He captured her mouth again, swallowing her concern. “Nothing hurts when you touch me.”
It was true. The constant ache he carried, the weight of old wounds and older betrayals—all of it faded when she was in his arms.
Her shirt rode up as she moved against him, and he found the warm skin beneath it. She sucked in a breath but didn’t pull away. Instead she pressed closer, her hips rocking against his in a way that made coherent thought nearly impossible.
His hand closed over the full mound of her breast, and she gasped into his mouth. Her nipple pebbled against his palm, and he rolled it gently between thumb and forefinger, rewarded with another gasp and a tightening of her fingers on his shoulders.
“More,” she whispered. “Please, Doren. I need more.”
The desperation in her voice nearly killed him. He wanted to give her anything she asked for, but the last shreds of control made him pause.
She’s vulnerable. Scared. Grieving for a life she might never return to. Is this really what she needs? Or am I just taking advantage of her loneliness?
The thought was like cold water, dousing some of the fire, and he gentled his touch. “Emma. We don’t have to do this.”
She pulled back, her eyes searching his face in the dim light. Then she smiled—a small, determined smile that made his chest feel too tight.
“Yes, we do.” Her hand slid down his chest, past the waistband of his pants, and wrapped firmly around his cock. His hips jerked involuntarily.
“I want you,” she whispered as she squeezed him gently, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head but somehow he retained enough control to pull free.
She started to object but then his mouth closed over her nipple and her words dissolved into a moan.
He sucked gently, laving the sensitive tip with his tongue, and her hands came up to tangle in his hair.
The pain in his scalp was perfect, driving him to suck harder, to graze her with his teeth until she writhed beneath him.
“More,” she repeated, and this time he didn’t hesitate.
He kissed his way down her body, pushing her shirt up to expose the soft expanse of her stomach.
She was so different from the females of his species—soft and rounded and warm, her skin smooth beneath his lips.
He could have explored her for hours, but the desperate clutch of her hands on his shoulders urged him on.
He slid lower, pausing for just a second to admire the generous curves and the pale skin glowing in the low light.
Then he lowered his head to the junction of her thighs and breathed in the scent of her arousal. Her hips lifted off the bed in a wordless plea for more, and he obliged, his tongue sliding through the slick heat of her folds. She gave a muffled cry, her legs falling open to give him better access.
He feasted on her, his tongue finding the small bud of flesh that made her shudder and gasp.
She tasted like nothing he’d ever experienced—sweet and salty and uniquely her.
Her thighs closed around his head, holding him in place as he circled her the small bud, applying enough pressure to make her back arch and her breath come in sharp pants.
“Please,” she whispered. “I’m so close. Don’t stop.”
He had no intention of stopping. He slid a finger inside her, feeling her inner muscles clench around him, and his cock throbbed painfully in response.
He added a second finger, stretching her gently as he continued to lick and suck, building her pleasure until she was writhing against the bed, holding her hand over her mouth to muffle her increasingly desperate cries.
When she came, she shattered beautifully—her entire body trembling, her thighs tightening around his head almost to the point of pain, and a low, keening sound escaping her throat despite her attempts to silence it.
He lapped up her release, prolonging her pleasure until she went limp beneath him, her chest heaving and her body glistening with sweat.
He kissed his way back up her body, pausing to lave her nipples, which were still erect and rosy from his attention. When he reached her mouth, she opened her eyes, and the dazed pleasure in her expression made him feel ten feet tall.
She tried to circle his hips with her legs but he rolled to the side and pulled her into his arms instead.
“Why are you stopping?”
“Because I’m trying to be a decent person for once in my life,” he said roughly. “And because you deserve better than a quick tumble in a stolen flyer while we’re running for our lives.”
“What if I don’t care about better? What if I just want this?”
Gods help him, that nearly broke his resolve. She was looking at him with those warm brown eyes, her lips swollen from his kisses, her body warm and willing against his, and it would be so easy to give in.
But he couldn’t. Not like this.
“You care,” he said softly. “You care about everything. It’s one of the things I—” He caught himself, veering away from the word he’d almost spoken. “One of the things I admire about you. And I refuse to be something you regret in the morning.”
Her expression shifted, the frustration fading into something softer. “You think I’d regret you?”
“I think you’ve had a very hard time, and very little sleep, and you’re dealing with more emotional upheaval than anyone should have to handle.” He kissed her forehead, lingering there. “I want you to be certain, not just desperate for comfort.”
A long silence before she laughed, shaky but genuine.
“That’s either the most honorable thing anyone’s ever said to me, or a very elaborate way of rejecting me.”
“The former. Definitely the former.” He tucked her more tightly against his side. “Though for the record, the fact that I’m currently in actual physical pain from not taking this further should tell you exactly how much this is not a rejection.”
She gave another shaky laugh and pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “Doren?”
“Mm?”
“Thank you.”
He didn’t ask what she was thanking him for—the restraint, the honesty, or simply the fact that he was there. Maybe it was all of it. Maybe it didn’t matter.
“Get some sleep,” he murmured against her hair.
“What about you?”
“I’ll sleep.” Eventually. When his body stopped screaming at him for his foolish nobility.
She was quiet for a while, and he thought she might have drifted off. But then her voice came again, soft and drowsy.
“For what it’s worth... I don’t think you’re running. I think you’re searching. And that’s not the same thing.”
He didn’t respond, but his arms tightened around her.
Long after her breathing had evened into sleep, he lay awake, watching the pulse of hyperspace light play across the ceiling. The artifact sat on the table where they’d left it, inert now but still carrying the echo of what Ari had awakened.
Three days ago, he’d been playing spy on an Ithyian slave ship, focused solely on uncovering the Grorn’s secrets. Now he had a human female in his arms, an Aurelian infant in his care, and an artifact that might be the key to everything he’d spent his life searching for.
The situation was ten times more complicated than he’d anticipated, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret a moment of it.