Tried not to want things she couldn't have.
Failed.
5
Kirr closed his bedroom door and leaned against it, his jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
Draanth.
His cock was still half-hard from the way she'd looked at him. Those hazel eyes going wide and dark, pupils blown, her breathing quickening when she'd seen him in nothing but a towel. The spike of her arousal had cut through the steam, sharp and sweet and impossible to miss.
She'd wanted him.
For three perfect seconds before panic had kicked in and she'd fled, Harper Sawyer had looked at him like she wanted to touch. Like she wanted to trace the path that water drop had taken down his chest. Like she wanted to find out exactly what all that size and strength felt like pressed against her soft curves.
His cock throbbed beneath the towel. He shoved away from the door and yanked the towel loose, letting it drop to the floor.
He shouldn't be thinking about this. Shouldn't be replaying the way her throat had worked when she'd tried to swallow, the way her small hands had trembled when she'd backed away from him. She was under his supervision. Under his protection. Traumatized and grieving and trapped on this station with nowhere else to go.
And he was standing here hard as steel because she'd stumbled and he'd reached for her and felt exactly how small she was under his hands.
He climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling, willing his body to settle. The sheets were cool against his overheated skin. Through the wall, he heard the faint sound of movement from the guest room. Harper, climbing into her own bed. So close. Near enough that he could be there in three strides if she called out.
Near enough to be dangerous.
His cock wasn't getting the message about settling down. If anything, it got harder, heavy and demanding against his stomach. He wrapped one hand around the base and squeezed, trying to ease the ache.
It didn't help.
Because his mind was already replaying the encounter, filling in details his body had cataloged without permission. The way that borrowed sleep shirt had hung on her frame, the hem hitting her mid-thigh, showing off legs that would barely reach his waist if she stood on her toes. The way the thin fabric had clung to her curves—full breasts, soft hips, the kind of body made for a male's hands.
His hands.
He could span her waist completely. Had felt it when he'd steadied her at the cooling unit yesterday, his fingers nearly meeting when he'd held her. All that soft flesh and delicate bone, fitting in his grip like she'd been made for him.
She'd be so small under him. So breakable.
The thought should've killed his arousal. Should've reminded him that one wrong move, one moment of lost control, and he could hurt her without meaning to. She was human. Fragile compared to Latharian males. If he held her too tight, moved too rough, let his strength slip for even a second?—
But that's not what his body was telling him.
His body was telling him that being careful with her, using all his strength to be gentle instead of rough, watching her surrender to him while knowing he'd never hurt her—that was what he wanted.
That was what made his cock throb and his control crack.
His hand moved on his shaft, slow and firm. He should stop. Should think about duty rosters or station maintenance or anything that would kill this need burning through him.
He didn't stop.
Instead he let himself imagine it. Harper under him, those hazel eyes gone dark with want instead of fear. Her small body beneath his huge frame, trusting him with her softness even though he could break her. The way she'd feel—tight and hot and perfect—taking him despite the size difference.
Gods, the size difference.
His hand moved faster, his breath coming harsh in the quiet room. He imagined stripping that sleep shirt off her, revealing all the curves she hid under baggy clothes. Imagined the contrast of his dark hand against her pale skin, his fingers wrapping around her wrist and making it disappear in his grip. Imagined lifting her like she weighed nothing—because she didn't, not to him—and settling her exactly where he wanted her.
On his lap. Straddling him. Those soft thighs spread wide over his hips, her core pressed against his cock, hot even through whatever thin scrap of fabric she wore underneath.
He'd go slow. Had to go slow. She was so damn small and he was?—
