“Goodnight, Melissa.”
She meant to close her eyes. She meant to let sleep take her, to bank the fire building in her blood and deal with it in the morning, when she could think clearly.
Instead, she lifted her head and pressed her lips to his.
The kiss started gentle. A soft brush of her mouth against his, feeling the subtle differences of his wider mouth and thinner lips. He made a low sound in his throat and his arm tightened around her back.
Then something shifted.
His free hand came up to cup the back of her head, and he kissed her with a desperation that stole her breath. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, seeking entrance, and when she opened for him he groaned like a dying male granted water.
This is what I’ve been missing, she thought hazily.
She’d been kissed before by various men, with varying degrees of skill and enthusiasm. But nothing had prepared her for the intensity of kissing Becsul. He kissed like each press of his mouth against hers was a gift he might never receive again. Like she was precious and powerful and utterly irresistible.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, she found herself sprawled half across his chest with one leg hooked over his thigh. His tail had wound up her calf to curl around her knee, holding her in place.
“Melissa.” Her name came out as a growl. “We should stop.”
“Probably.” She didn’t move.
“I don’t want to take advantage?—”
“You’re not.” She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at him. “Trust me, Becsul. If I wanted you to stop, you would know.”
She could see the pulse hammering in his throat, and beneath her leg, the massive evidence of his arousal pressed against the fabric of his uniform.
“I want you,” he said, and the raw honesty in his voice made her shiver. “I want you in ways I don’t have words to describe. Everymoment I’m near you, my body screams to claim you. To mark you. To make you mine.”
“But?”
“But not like this. Not in a cell, with Veyalor’s deadline hanging over us. Not when you might feel obligated, or coerced, or?—”
She kissed him again, cutting off the words.
“I don’t feel obligated,” she said when she pulled back. “I feel… awake. For the first time in years, maybe.” She traced a finger along the line of his jaw, feeling the slight texture of his skin. “Whatever happens tomorrow, or in six days, or whenever—right now, in this moment, I want to feel something good. I want to feel you.”
His control visibly wavered. His tail tightened around her leg, pulling her closer, and his hand slid down to rest at the curve of her waist.
“Not everything,” he said hoarsely. “Not yet. I want… I need our first time to be when we are free. But we can?—”
“Yes,” she whispered, and pulled him down to her.
The second kiss was slower, deeper, and filled with all the unspoken promises they couldn’t make yet. His tail released her leg to slide up the back of her thigh, tracing the sensitive skin with deliberate strokes. She shivered and pressed closer.
What followed was a slow exploration, hands mapping unfamiliar territory, mouths learning the taste of new skin. Becsul touched her like she was made of glass and steel simultaneously—delicate and unbreakable. The slight scrape of his textured hands against her belly made her gasp with sensation.
She learned that the soft skin behind his jaw was exquisitely sensitive, that light kisses there made him shudder and clutch at her hips. She learned that the base of his tail, where it met his spine, drew a deep groan from him when she dragged her nails across it. She learned that the rumbling purr he made when aroused vibrated through her whole body and settled, warm and insistent, between her thighs.
He learned that she liked to be held down, her wrists pinned above her head while his mouth traced paths across her collarbone and down to her breasts. He learned that the curve of her waist was ticklish, but the swell of her hip was not. He learned that when he growled her name against her throat, she arched into him like a flower seeking the sun.
They kept to their agreement that some lines wouldn’t be crossed until they were free. But his clever fingers found the heat between her legs and coaxed her over the edge. She buried her cry against his shoulder and held on tight. When she finally lay spent and sated against him, his tail still stroking lazy circles on her back, she knew she’d never felt safer or more cherished.
“I didn’t know it could be like that,” she murmured.
“Like what?”
“Intense. But also… safe.” She pressed a kiss to his chest, warm beneath her lips. “I’ve never trusted anyone enough to really let go before. There was always some part of me holding back, waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
