Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
NAVIRA
Thalric’s mouth moved against Navira’s with a slow, devastating heat that chased away the last of the chill from the ocean and the lingering ghost of her panic. His vow echoed in her ears—I would never do anything to hurt you—and for once, Navira believed a man completely.
Her fears about logistics, about past wounds, about the terrifying unknown of life on an alien planet, melted like wax under the flame of his touch.
The only thing that mattered was the truth vibrating through the air between them: she couldn’t walk away.
Because the alternative—leaving him, leaving this world where her soul felt awake for the first time since her Olympic days—wasn’t an option.
He had saved her life tonight, yes, but he was also saving her from the quiet, diminishing existence she’d accepted back on Earth.
He was everything she never knew she needed, and everything she suddenly couldn’t fathom living without.
She broke the kiss, and without a word, she pushed against his broad shoulders, guiding him back against the plush leather of the sofa.
The wool blanket pooled on the floor as she moved to hover above him, drinking in the sight of him—the powerful lines of his bare chest, the defined ridges of his abdomen, and the storm in his grey eyes watching her every move with predatory focus.
Then she lowered her mouth, not to his lips, but to the strong column of his throat.
She tasted the salt of the ocean still on his skin and felt the rapid beat of his pulse beneath her tongue.
A low rumble vibrated in his chest as she traced a path downward, her kisses and licks mapping the hard planes of his pectorals and the tight ridges of his abdomen.
Her fingers soon hooked into the waistband of his black shorts, and he lifted his hips in silent cooperation as she slid the fabric down his legs and tossed them aside.
His erection sprang free, thick and heavy and gloriously hard for her.
A surge of feminine power, hot and sharp, shot through her. She did this to the controlled Alpha.
With a confidence that felt both new and utterly innate, she took his large cock into her mouth.
Thalric’s whole body jerked, and a raw, guttural groan tore from his throat, the sound of pure, shattered control.
His hands fisted in her damp hair, not pushing or guiding, just holding on as if she were his anchor in a storm.
Navira reveled in it. In the taste of him, the weight of him on her tongue, the way his hips gave a reflexive thrust she knew he was fighting to restrain.
She worked him with her mouth and hand, learning his rhythm, the spots that made his breath catch, the gentle pressure that had his thighs trembling.
His moans were a symphony, each one stoking the fire in her own core.
She could feel the tension coiling in him, the telltale tightening of his muscles as he teetered on a knife’s edge. His control was fraying, and the knowledge was intoxicating.
“Navira.” Her name was a strained warning.
But just as she felt him about to fall, his hands were on her shoulders, pulling her up with a gentle firmness that brooked no argument.
His eyes were black with desire, his chest heaving. “Not like this,” he rasped.
Before she could protest, his hands went to the hem of the white t-shirt she wore. In one smooth motion, he pulled it up and over her head, leaving her bare before the fire’s glow. The cool air on her skin was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze.
“My turn,” he said, and the Alpha command only drove her desire higher.
He guided her back onto the soft leather, his body following her down, caging her in.
His mouth found her neck, sucking a sensitive spot that made her gasp, then blazed a trail of fire down to her breasts.
He lavished attention on each peak, his tongue circling and his teeth grazing with just enough pressure to make her arch off the sofa.
“Thalric…”
His kisses continued their descent over her toned stomach, his stubble a delicious abrasion.
Then he was there, settling between her thighs.
He paused, and Navira lifted her head to see him looking at her spread before him, his expression one of reverent hunger.
The visual—his stormy eyes devouring her—unlocked something primal deep within her.
Then he leaned in.
The first touch of his tongue was electric.
Navira’s back bowed, her fingers diving into his dark hair.
There was no fumbling and no hesitation.
He read her body’s responses like a map, his tongue and lips finding a rhythm that had her gasping and her hips moving against his mouth in a helpless, ancient cadence.
He was masterful. No one had ever done this quite like this.
Not with this combination of relentless focus and worshipful intensity.
But it wasn’t just skill; it was the mate bond, that inexplicable connection telling him what she needed, amplifying every sensation until her world narrowed to the point where his mouth met her flesh.
He soon added his fingers, sliding two inside her with a smooth stroke that curled just right, hitting a spot that made stars burst behind her eyelids. The dual sensation—the firm thrust inside, the relentless suction outside—built a pressure so exquisite it bordered on pain.
“Please… I’m going to…” Her words dissolved into a moan.
He growled against her, the vibration tipping her over the edge.
Her orgasm exploded, a seismic wave that tore through her with a violence that stole her breath, her sight, and every coherent thought. Her entire body shook as he gentled his mouth but didn’t stop, drawing out every last shuddering ripple until she lay boneless against the leather.
He finally lifted his head, his lips glistening and his eyes blazing with masculine satisfaction. He looked utterly pleased with himself, and she had never seen anything more attractive.
Summoning strength from somewhere, she reached for him, pulling him up her body. She captured his mouth in a deep, searing kiss, showing him without words the wreck he’d made of her and how desperately she still wanted him.
When she broke for air, her voice was a ragged whisper. “I need you, Thalric.”
Her words acted like a physical command.
Thalric’s storm-grey eyes went dark, the pupils swallowing the grey in a heartbeat.
A low, possessive sound rumbled in his chest, something entirely wolf.
He stood from the sofa in one fluid motion and before Navira could process the movement, his hands were on her—one arm sliding under her knees, the other cradling her back—and he lifted her naked form against his chest as if she weighed nothing.