“Not like mine,” he said simply.
My cheeks burned, and I hated that he was right.
He undid his belt and began to peel off his leather trousers.
The fluttering in my chest intensified. The heat in my cheeks deepened. Unable to bear it, I looked away, even though I shouldn’t have.
I should have kept staring, but I feared what the sight of him, completely naked—includingthat—would do to me.
So I turned, but when I heard the sounds of water splashing, I looked back, curiosity burning.
Just in time to catch the sight of his bare, magnificent ass as he strode into the water.
Gorran didn’t just step into the water—he owned it.
The stream was bright and glass-clear, sunlight breaking over its surface like molten silver. He waded in without hesitation, his stride slow, deliberate, and—gods help me—insolent. It was the kind of movement that told me he knew I was watching, knew I was pretending not to.
Hebecame overwhelming again.
I directed my gaze toward the trees, on a pair of birds darting between branches, anywhere but on the enormous, battle-scarred orc bathing in front of me. I was unaffected. Entirely unaffected.
Except I wasn’t.
The quiet splash of water pulled me back. Against my will, I glanced over—just a quick look—and the breath stuck in my throat.
The stream hugged him like liquid light, running in thin rivulets down muscle cut from years of war. His chest was broad,sculpted in hard, perfect planes that caught the sun, his skin glistening like wet steel. Water beaded and slid over the ridges of his stomach, tracing the deep line between each muscle, falling lower before I wrenched my gaze away.
I wasn’t looking. I wasn’t.
But I was.
His scars fascinated me, pale streaks against darker skin, proof of a thousand battles survived. The jagged one across his shoulder, the long slash that cut diagonally over his ribs—each one made him seem even harder, more unyielding, as though life itself had tried to cut him down and failed.
I told myself it was curiosity. Survival instinct. I was just… cataloguing him. Yes, that was all.
But my body didn’t believe the lie.
A pulse throbbed in my throat. My chest tightened. My lips parted before I realized I was holding my breath.
How could this be happening? He was an orc. A killer. The kind of creature mothers warned their daughters about. And yet…
He’s beautiful,a tiny, treacherous voice inside me whispered.Truly magnificent.
He ran a hand over his head, dark hair slicked back, water cascading down the lines of his back. The motion pulled every muscle in his arms taut, the veins on his forearms standing out like cords. It was primal, raw, and so breathtakingly physical that I couldn’t look away.
He turned then, catching me in the act.
I froze, every excuse dying on my tongue.
His gaze found mine through the shimmer of the water, steady and unashamed. He didn’t move to cover himself. He didn’t even flinch.
“You want to look,” he said, voice low and rough, carrying easily across the stream. “Look.”
The words struck me harder than they should have. My face went hot, and I twisted my head, eyes fixed on the trees, but too late… far, far too late. I’d seen enough to know that nothing about him was soft.
I clenched the blanket tighter around me, as if its coarse fabric could shield me from my own thoughts.
Attractive.
