Page 105 of Aryn

That I could just… be.

I ease back, eyes sliding open to find Aryn watching me like he’s memorizing my every reaction. A heavy sigh passes from my mouth to his as I find his wrist and guide it to my chin with shaking hands. Understanding flashes in his eyes as his fingers tighten. I don’t fight the way he tilts my head exactly where he wants it. I just let him lead, giving in to the electric current that runs through me every time he takes control.

It doesn’t feel like submission.

It feels like surrender.

Once I get a taste, it spreads through my body in a dull, pulsing ache that builds low in my gut. It spreads outward, all-consuming and inevitable. I can’t do a thing to stop it. Not a single fucking thing.

Why is that so freeing?

Our tongues move together, tasting and exploring, and the kiss turns hungrier. I feel everything like it’s the first time, like I’ve never been kissed or touched—and fuck, he’s touching me, teasing down my stomach and gripping my chin. I fall into it, experiencing the pleasure without the least bit of control. A passenger in my body.

His hips rock forward, pressing his thickening cock against my thigh. A sound leaves me I’ve never made before, a desperate, keening thing that begs without words. His hands tighten on my body and he moves to hover over me, eyes nearly glowing in the firelight.

Then he winces.

I pull back, sluggish as if I’ve woken from a trance. Aryn rests his forehead against mine, breathing ragged. “Gods, I want you,” he whispers, then lets out a frustrated growl so low it vibrates through his chest.

I blink a few times, head swimming like I’m half-drunk, and press another kiss to his frowning mouth. “And you can have me… when you aren’t injured and loopy from painkillers. You need to rest.”

“Not even tired,” he argues, right before his jaw cracks open in a long, deep yawn.

“That was very convincing.”

Aryn’s eyes close with a heavy sigh as he snuggles into my side. “Your sarcasm is loud.”

“Always is,” I agree.

He presses a soft kiss to my neck. “Was that okay?”

“That was…” I trail off, and he pulls back to watch my face. “Good. Really… yes.”

He studies me a moment longer before kissing my lips so softly I barely feel it. “If you’re ever uncomfortable with anything we do, or if you get overwhelmed, you tell me.”

“Okay,” I whisper as I tuck him back into my neck.

“Tomorrow,” he mumbles. “We’ll explore this more tomorrow.”

“You’re still injured.”

“I’ll be better by then.”

I chuckle quietly. “Of course you will.”

He hugs me tighter, and I let my body settle against the warm line of his. It shouldn’t be this easy. Nothing in my life has ever been this easy. Years of refusing to rely on anyone have made me forget what it feels like to actually need someone.

My brain keeps trying to tell me I shouldn’t need him.

Shouldn’t need the solid weight of him beside me just to breathe properly.

Shouldn’t need the steady sound of his heartbeat under my ear before I can finally let go.

But I do.

Even as my arm falls asleep beneath his weight, I don’t move. I just lie there in the quiet, listening to his breathing even into the slow rhythm of sleep. Those empty places inside me are suddenly so full they ache. I don’t need the noise to drown them out, or the adrenaline to help me forget them.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel complete.