It's true. In this moment, with his light golden eyes fixed on mine and his breath warm against my skin, the rest of the world has faded to background noise. There's only this: the space between us growing smaller, the way he's looking at me like I'm something he wants to protect and devour simultaneously.
"Trinity," he breathes, and then his lips are on mine.
The kiss is nothing like the practiced smoothness I've experienced with other men. It's uncertain at first, almostquestioning, like he's asking permission even as he takes it. Then I respond, pressing closer, and something ignites between us.
His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking along my cheekbones as he deepens the kiss. There's hunger in it now, barely leashed control that makes me feel like I'm standing too close to a fire. When I part my lips, inviting him in, the sound he makes is purely desperate.
God, when was the last time someone kissed me like this? Like they needed it to breathe?
I slide my hands up his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt, the rapid beat of his heart. His braided hair is silk-soft when I touch it, so different from the rough warrior image he projects.
When we finally break apart, both of us are breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, and I can feel the fine tremor in his hands where they still cup my face.
"This complicates everything," he says.
"I know."
"The show, our reasons for being here..."
"I know."
"I should regret it."
"Do you?"
His thumb brushes across my lower lip, and his eyes follow the movement with an intensity that makes my toes curl.
"No. I regret only that we are not alone. Truly alone."
Before I answer, voices approach from the direction of the house. Korgan immediately puts space between us, straightening his shirt with military precision. I run my hands through my hair, trying to finger-comb it back into something presentable, acutely aware that my lips feel swollen and my cheeks are probably flushed.
"Trinity? Korgan?" A production assistant appears at the edge of the pavilion. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need you back inside for the elimination ceremony."
Right. The elimination ceremony. Because this is still a reality show, and people go home, and everything that just happened was probably captured by hidden cameras for national television.
Reality crashes back with uncomfortable force.
Korgan stands first, offering me his hand to help me up. The gesture is courteous, appropriate for cameras, but his fingers linger against mine a beat longer than necessary.
"After you," he says formally.
I gather the empty plate that held the cinnamon rolls. When did we finish them all? We start toward the house. But as we walk, I catch him glancing at me sideways, like he's trying to memorize something.
My lips still tingle from his kiss. My heart still races from the way he'd looked at me, like I was something worth risking everything for.
This definitely complicates everything.
But as we rejoin the group of contestants, all of them buzzing with nervous energy about who might be sent home tonight, I find I don't care about complications. For the first time in months, something feels possible. Risky and uncertain and potentially devastating, but possible.
And maybe that's worth a little complication.
CHAPTER 6
KORGAN
The kiss replays in my mind like a battle memory, vivid, immediate, impossible to dismiss. Except this was no battle. No enemy to defeat, no territory to claim. Just Trinity's soft mouth beneath mine and the way she'd melted against me like heated metal finding its shape.
What does it mean when a human female shares breath willingly? When she makes those small sounds of surrender?
