Garrik doesn’t move for a moment; he just stands at the foot of the bed, holding me. I reach up to touch his face, brushing my fingers through the dark curls at his temples, weaving into his soft beard.
“You’re not still nervous, are you?” I ask.
His throat bobs. “I just…want to get it right. And I don’t want to hurt you.”
I smile softly, resisting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it. “Garrik…you brought me on the most wonderful day today. You made me an amazing dinner, wine and dined me…and you made me come more times last night than I can count? I think…there’s no way youwon’tget it right.”
He exhales slowly, brows furrowed…then he rests his forehead against mine. “I’m nervous because you’re precious to me,” he whispers. “I love you, Iris. I don’t know when it happened…but it’s true. Ilove you.”
My breath catches—because it makes perfect sense. Of course, I love him too. I love him so much I can barely breathe.
“I love you too, Garrik,” I whisper. “You’re…you’re the most important person in my life. I don’t want to lose you and Iknowyou won’t hurt me.”
Garrik’s eyes meet mine, and then slowly—socarefully—I feel him shift. He adjusts me in his arms so I can slide down to the edge of the bed, legs dangling over. I gaze up at him as he gently reaches for my glasses, pulling them off of my nose.
They’re delicate, old, they’ve been through a lot—and his hands dwarf them—but he handles them like glass. One time on Earth a few years ago, I lost them and Garrik had to guide me around like a lost puppy. He knows how important they are, and he handles them like he knows.
Just like he handles me…how he’salwayshandled me.
Then he’s kneeling in front of me, unbuttoning my dress one agonizing button at a time. He reveals my breasts and leans in to kiss down my cleavage, finding my nipple and dragging his big tongue over it, and I clutch his face to my chest.
“Oh fuck,” I gasp.
“You always had a dirty mouth,” he chuckles.
I laugh. “You have no idea.”
He looks up at me from where he’s knelt—hands on my thighs, dress unbuttoned to the waist, his breath fanning hot over my skin. And for a second, the entire universe narrows to just that look.
Those golden eyes.
The one I’ve known across battlefields, through dusty archives, under starlight, beneath rubble, through laughter and grief and too many bad meals in worse camps.
The one who’s always had my six. Always knew when I was bluffing. Always made space for me when I didn’t know how to ask.
And now…he’s looking at me like I’m everything.
“Iris,” he says, voice low and uneven, “you know I want you, right?”
I nod.
“You know I’d give you anything?”
I nod again, reaching out to stroke my fingers through his curls. “So stop acting like you’re about to break me.”
His mouth twitches. “You’re very small.”
“I’m verystretchy,” I counter.
A strangled sound escapes him—half laugh, half groan.
“You’re reckless,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against my stomach.
“And you love it.”
“I do,” he says, without hesitation. “Gods help me, I really do.”
I run my fingers through his hair, then gently tug him up—urging him to stand so I can finish unbuttoning the rest of my dress. He obliges, towering over me, and I have to stand on the bed just to reach the final few buttons. My fingers tremble slightly. From nerves, from anticipation, from the sheer intensity of what I know is coming.
