He let out a low, half-amused sound against her neck. “No panties,” he muttered, more accusation than question.
“I am wearing them.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her, brows drawn together, clearly reassessing everything he thought he knew. She laughed softly.
“Your face,” she teased.
He huffed. “If you were walking around like that?—”
“What?” she challenged lightly, shifting closer and pressing her breasts against him, enjoying how easily she distracted him. “These are shorts, I don’t see the point of wearing extra layers to bed.”
She leaned in and kissed him before he could finish the grumble forming on his lips, stealing the complaint right out of his mouth. His response was immediate, a reluctant smile breaking through as his arms tightened around her.
Then, almost without warning, she felt his tail curling and brushing through her shorts, and against her clit in ways that made her gasp. She tried to keep quiet, biting her lip, but the sensations were too much, each brush and press sending sparks through her body. Her hands were on his shoulders, trying to ground herself, but it only made her more aware of how completely he had her. The sounds she made were small, stifled moans, but they were enough to tell him exactly how she was feeling, and he responded instantly, moving with her, reading her every twitch and gasp.
Then, without warning, the tip started to vibrate, and everything tilted.
“Oh, you didn’t do that last time,” she panted against his lips.
“I’ve got more than one move,” he said before kissing her.
The warmth, the closeness, the steady rhythm of his tail on her clit crested all at once, too much and perfect and dizzying. The room seemed to blur at the edges, sound stretching thin, her thoughts scattering like sparks. She clutched at him as the sensation rolled through her, breath catching, vision going white.
For a heartbeat, she was nowhere at all, just feeling, before the world slipped gently out from under her and went dark. Zara found her chest rising too fast, trying to remember how to breathe like a person and not a firework.
“That’s…that’s going to be it, huh?” she mumbled into the warm column of his neck, still collecting her soul.
“Yes,” Hektor’s shoulders shook with a restrained laugh. “You’re welcome.”
She wanted to return the favor but guessed it would be a losing effort. For now. “Don’t expect me to go back to my room.”
He shifted, just enough for her to see the amused crease at his brow. “What about Liora?”
“She wasn’t back yet when I left my room,” Zara muttered, then poked his ribs. “And she won’t wonder.”
“She won’t?” His tone was half-skeptical, half-hopeful.
Zara finally lifted her chin, smug. “She knows exactly where I’d be.”
His answering grin was slow and lethal, the kind that made her stomach free-fall in the very best way. Without another word, he scooped an arm under her knees and lifted, carrying her the short distance to the bed. The sheets were cool, but the pillow scented unmistakably of him, clean and sharp.
“The pillows smell like you,” she murmured.
Hektor settled on his side, one arm looping around her waist, pulling her in until she fit perfectly along him. “I know something that smells better,” he said, his tone far too composed for someone teasing.
She giggled, unable to help it, and shoved at his chest half-heartedly. He didn’t move an inch, just tucked her nearer, his chin resting atop her head like it belonged there.
“This is a nice perk,” she whispered, voice already slipping toward sleep.
He brushed his thumb along her hip. “It’s not a perk. It’s just…us.”
And Zara, wrapped in him and his steady heartbeat, felt very, very okay with that.
Chapter 11
Hektor
Hektor woke slowly, warm, comfortable, and cocooned in a softness he didn’t immediately recognize. Then he opened his eyes and found Zara’s face inches from his.
