Page 81 of Dance of Stars and Ashes

She looked up as if seeking an escape from the heavens, spinning around. She turned again and then squeaked when Rabin appeared directly in front of her.

He took a step, and she backed up, her calves hitting a large rock behind her. Where had that come from?

“Zarya,” he said, his voice filled with an authority that reminded her he was used to commanding an army of thousands. “Sit.”

Her legs melted out from under her as she collapsed onto the rock.

Dammit. How did he do that?

He surprised her by dropping to his knees.

“I wasn’t done apologizing,” he said. “In fact, I’d barely started.”

She huffed out a strained laugh. “And you’re going to do it from your knees?”

He arched a dark eyebrow. “If that’s what it takes.”

“I… uh…” She rubbed her face. Why couldn’t she think straight?

He pressed in closer, and she shut her eyes, trying not to become distracted by the way he smelled or the way he felt against her. She was angry with him. He’d been terrible, and he would have to grovel first if he wanted anything else.

His hands gripped her ankles, and he uncrossed her legs before he moved between them, the insides of her thighs pressing against his warm torso. Waves of heat rolled up her limbs before pooling low in her stomach.

“I still don’t understand this sudden change,” she said, her breath coming in short pants. “You were so sure we shouldn’t do this.”

“I was wrong,” he said. “You and I both know this forest means we’re inevitable.”

He had a point.

She knew she should stop him. That she shouldn’t let him get any closer, but she was paralyzed and couldn’t seem to react. He slid his large hands up the sides of her legs, slowly, so agonizingly slowly. He pushed up the edge of her nightgown, exposing the top of her knee, and then leaned down to press the sharp tip of his tooth to the delicate skin on the inside of her thigh.

She shivered and gasped, her skin pulling up gooseflesh and her nipples peaking.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness. And your trust,” he murmured against her.

“You’ve got a long way to go,” she said, trying to sound determined, but it was clear he wasn’t deterred.

He shifted and dragged his hands higher, gripping her hips, sending a burst of butterflies in her stomach.

“I will never give you a reason to doubt me again,” he said. Then, he leaned down and kissed her shoulder, his lips warm and soft. It sent another tremble climbing up her back as she squeezed out a reflexive moan.

“Tell me you lied,” he said, peering up at her through a fringe of dark lashes. “Tell me you feel it, too.”

“Of course I do,” she whispered. “I already told you that.”

He licked his lips—his full, perfect lips—and moved closer as his hands slid higher under her nightgown, his palms curling over her ribs.

“Does that mean I can kiss you?”

“No,” she said. “You pushed me away. Remember? Left me standing alone in an alley after I nearly died.”

The gold flecks in his eyes fused into dark bronze points, and she caught a moment of contrition flash across his face.

“Then I have an idea,” he said. “One I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.”

“What?” she asked.

“Your book,” he said. “The one that described tasting the… ‘nub of pleasure,’ was it?”