“You stayed,” I say instead.
His jaw tightens. “You needed watching.”
“Is that all?”
His eyes search my face, dark and unreadable. “What do you want me to tell you, Nova?”
“The truth.”
“The truth.” He laughs, soft and humorless. “The truth is I couldn’t leave. Couldn’t make myself walk out that door. Couldn’t stop touching you long enough to—“ He cuts himself off, looks away.
My hand slides up his chest, over his shoulder, to the side of his neck. I feel his pulse jump beneath my fingers. “Long enough to what?”
He looks back at me, and the heat in his eyes makes my breath catch. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Maybe I want to burn.”
Something snaps.
His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back, and then his mouth is on mine. The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s every moment of tension between us breaking in a single, devastating collision. He kisses me like he’s starving for it, like he’s been holding himself back by a thread that finally frayed.
Pain flares through my battered body—and I don’t care. I match him beat for beat, my hands sliding over his bareshoulders, down his back, feeling the muscles flex beneath my palms. Every movement costs me, and I pay it gladly.
The weight of him presses me into the mattress. Solid. Real.Right.His hips settle between my thighs, and I feel exactly how much he wants this—hard length pressed against my core, even through layers of fabric.
“Dane.” His name comes out breathless.
His mouth trails down my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below my ear. “Tell me to stop.”
“No.”
He groans against my skin, hips rolling against mine in a motion that makes me gasp. My back arches, pressing closer, needing more.
My shirt rides up as his hands explore—calloused fingers tracing fire along my ribs, my waist, the curve of my hip. Each touch sends sparks cascading through my body, pooling low in my belly.
“Off,” I manage, tugging at my shirt. “I need—“
He helps me pull it over my head, then goes still. His eyes sweep over me—bare skin, heaving chest, the violet shimmer of magic still pulsing faintly beneath my flesh. The hunger in his gaze makes me feel powerful. Wanted.
“God, Nova.” The words come out reverent. Wrecked.
He lowers his head, mouth tracing a path from my collarbone to the swell of my breast. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him closer as sensation spirals through me. His hand slides up my thigh, and I shift restlessly beneath him, aching for more contact.
“Please,” I whisper.
He freezes.
Then pulls back, breathing hard, expression torn.
“We can’t,” he says, voice wrecked. “Not while you’re—“
“I’m fine.” I reach for him, trying to pull him back down. “I’m more than fine, I’m—“
“You’re still healing.” He catches my wrists, pins them gently to the pillow above my head. The position should feel restraining. Instead, it makes heat coil tighter in my belly. “Your magic isn’t stable. If you lose control during—“ He closes his eyes, jaw tight. “I won’t risk hurting you.”
“You won’t hurt me.”
“You don’t know that.” He opens his eyes, and the raw concern there cuts through my frustration. “I felt your magic surge just now. Felt it sparking under your skin. If that destabilizes while we’re—“ He shakes his head. “I’m not taking that chance. Not with you.”
