If he hadn’t been holding me upright, I probably would have melted directly onto his floor.
There had always been something about him.
From the very beginning.
Even before I knew his voice could turn rough when emotional.
Before I knew he secretly designed impossible celestial mapping systems or carried my bag like it belonged in his hand.
I’d noticed him.
How could I not?
He was huge and beautiful and strange in ways that made him impossible to ignore.
Like one of those marble gargoyles perched atop old cathedrals—ancient, watchful, devastatingly carved.
But I’d never truly let myself believe he might want me back.
Not really.
Women like me didn’t get real life heroes like Sten to fall for them.
Not in real life.
Not outside romance novels and desperate fantasies.
Curvy, late-blooming Witches with mediocre magic and too much emotional baggage did not end up wrapped in the arms of terrifyingly gorgeous celestial Monsters.
And yet—his lips softened against mine with shocking tenderness, like he was savoring me instead of merely kissing me.
The contrast nearly wrecked me.
Power and restraint.
Sharp horns and soft mouth.
Monster and protector tangled together so seamlessly I could barely separate them anymore.
His tongue stroked deeper into my mouth, long and slow and delicious, and heat pooled between my thighs so suddenly I gasped against him.
Moisture gathered inside my panties embarrassingly fast.
Need coiled low and aching inside me until my body felt heavy with it.
Another moan slipped free.
Sten made that deep, otherworldly purring sound again.
Oh.
Oh, he definitely liked hearing me.
The realization made me tremble harder.
Eventually he slowed the kiss, though his hands never loosened entirely.
Somewhere along the way his palms had moved upward, cupping my cheeks carefully like I was something fragile.
