“You don’t need to.” His mouth pressed to her jaw, his breath unsteady. “You only need to feel.”
His fingers circled her, patient, listening for every catch of her breath, every broken moan of his name. She tipped her head back, hands gripping his shoulders, until her climax broke over her—thighs clenched, cry muffled against his throat. He anchored her, held her through it, every breath in his chest a thread of restraint.
She didn’t let him savor long. Her hand slid down his chest, trembling, then wrapped around him—hard, straining, pulsing with need.
“Let me,” she whispered. “Let me give you this.”
“Auryn—” his warning frayed. “If you touch me like that, I won’t last.”
“I don’t want you to.”
A guttural growl broke from him as her hand stroked, shy but insistent. His hips jerked into her palm, his jaw clenching as her thighs shifted to grind against his.
“Please,” she gasped. “Touch me again.”
His fingers slipped between them once more, and he matched her rhythm, his thumb circling, stroking, claiming. Tension surged, a storm rising in both of them.
“Auryn,” he groaned, burying his face in her hair. “I’m—”
“Kailorien,” she breathed. “Let go.”
He did. With a hiss, he spilled into her hand, forehead pressed to hers as stars burst behind his eyes. As he came, she found her own bliss, clinging, shuddering, gasping against his throat.
They collapsed together, tangled, their bodies shaking from the maelstrom they’d weathered side by side. His arms surrounded her as if he might never be whole again if he let go.
Auryn slumped into him, breath fluttering against the curve of his throat. Resh held her steady, one arm beneath her thighs, the other cradling her back. Her limbs yielded—not with passion now, but with exhaustion.
He forced the edge of his hunger to ease. Forcing his mind not to replay the way she had cried his name like benediction.
Auryn.
His Auryn.
She glowed, cheeks flushed, faint starlit freckles winking along her skin where the firelight touched her. But when his lips brushed her shoulder—then her temple—her skin was too cool. A creeping chill beneath the warmth of her blush.
Just like by the river.When she brushed it off as nothing.
I’m not the only one keeping secrets. Though hers feel more dangerous than mine.
Carefully, he lifted her, easing her back against the mound of blankets at the cot’s head. She made a small, drowsy sound of protest, her brow furrowing.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Just a moment. You’re cold.”
She huffed, curling closer. “You’re warm enough.”
“I’m not a blanket,” he teased, reaching for one.
“I won’t be cold if you are near,” she mumbled.
Resh bit back a grin, tension loosening in his chest as he tucked the blanket over her shoulders. She drifted, cheek against his chest, and he shifted, meaning to stoke the fire.
Her hand caught his wrist. “No,” she said sharply. Afraid.
He paused. “What is it?”
She blinked, and whispered, “I don’t want to dream.”
The smile vanished from his lips. There was no play in her voice now.
