Page 85 of Alien Burn

This time she didn't worry about whether he would know she meant to. She held on with both hands, careful of the healing cut, and let his fingers close around hers.

“Yesterday was nicer,” she said.

“It was.”

“I'm sorry.”

“For wanting my hand?”

A surprised breath escaped her. Almost a laugh.

“For all of this.”

“You haven't done anything to me that needs an apology.”

His thumb brushed her knuckle. She watched it, the reddish bronze of his skin against hers, and tried to make herself believe him.

After a while, she loosened her grip.

“I do want my own room.”

“Then we'll arrange it.”

“I want to tell her myself. That part, anyway.”

He was quiet for a moment. She could see him considering it.

“You can collect your things with an escort. They can wait inside the sitting room or directly outside the suite. Your choice. If you want them closer, call them.”

“Outside,” she said.

“All right.”

“Do you think I'm being foolish?”

“No. I think you've had to consider someone else's reaction before doing anything for a long time.”

Her eyes filled so quickly she had to look away.

He didn't pull her toward him or try to catch her face. His hand stayed in hers, warm and steady, while she blinked until she could see the courtyard again.

“I liked it when you were trying to make me blush,” she said.

“I wasn't trying very hard.”

She looked back at him, and there it was: the smallest suggestion of a smile.

“You could put a little effort in.”

“Now?”

“Just a little.”

He leaned closer. The light outlined one of his tall horns and the dark hair at its base. At this distance, she could see the tiredness beneath his eyes, the roughness along his jaw where he needed to shave.

“When you smiled at me across that room,” he said, “I forgot what the male beside me was saying.”

“What was he saying?”