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She darted her eyes around them.
‘No one’s paying us any mind,’ he growled. ‘We’re not the only ones making the most of the night.’
True to his word, a few more loved-up couples scattered amongst the kantina were just as unrestrained in their dark corners.
His finger kept teasing her nipple through her tunic, even as his tongue found her ear, licking her lobe with such gentleness she shuddered, clutching onto his shirt.
His breath, hot and laden with need, mingled with her shorter, keening pants.
The world around them faded as their lips met.
His firm and insistent over hers,
Her tongue teased his, and he groaned, savouring her.
Time seemed to stand still as they explored the depths of their desire, their mouths moving in perfect synchronicity.
It was a dance of fire and ice, a collision of passion and restraint that left them both breathless and wanting more.
Their bodies pressed tight, the heat between them burning hotter than the sun. Sana’a’s hands roamed across Killen’s chest, igniting every inch of her skin with fiery kisses.
She hissed at the length of his heated steel against her tummy, throbbing with hunger and need and her wet pussy overflowing.
Moaning, Sana’a pulled away. ‘We can’t do this.’
His eyes shadowed over as they gazed at each other for a long moment.
‘Why?’ He rasped, eyes half-mast with desire.
‘We’re playing with fire and with the future of Katáne,’ Sana’a murmured.
Her voice was filled with the frustration of craving and the weight of their forbidden attraction, with consequences that loomed over them like a dark cloud.
Her words, too, seemed to pierce his desire, and she saw his eyes cloud over.
She sensed his indecision as it slid over her like an icy foreboding. Killen was struggling to trust her. She was sure of that. Was it because she had once almost bladed him? Or did he have other misgivings?
She narrowed her gaze at the doubt dancing in his silver eyes, yet he still pushed through, need pulsing through his eyes. ‘Would exploring this connection jeopardise everything we’ve worked for?’
‘You’re the Kíríga, the usurper, the future King of this mad planet. You must serve your kingdom first and maintain the delicate balance of power in your hands. Messing about with a hashashin is a risk you can’t afford to take.’
Killen’s eyes softened, his hand reaching out to stroke her cheek. ‘I never expected you,’ he admitted, his voice rumbling with a vulnerability Sana’a had not witnessed before. ‘But I can’t deny what I feel. It’s consuming me.’
The shikari leaned into his touch, her heart racing. ‘You’re knocking me around too, Sable,’ she confessed, her words barely above a whisper. ‘But we need to be careful. A lack of focus could destroy everything we’ve both worked so hard for.’
Killen nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and resignation. ‘I know. But fokk convention Sana’a, maybe this is meant to be.’
She’d no quick retort; she just stared up at him, at the beauty and raw honesty on his face.
‘I think we need to leave,’ she whispered after a beat.
‘But not before this.’
He leaned in, lifted his hand, pushed it into her hair and retook her lips in a warm, pliant, knee-weakening kiss.
He groaned, sucking on her tongue.
His waist and hips moved, in a dance of their own making, grinding his rigid hard cock against her mound.
