The contact was electric. His skin burned against mine through the thin barrier of my living suit, and I could feel every ridge of muscle, every scar, every place where his runes pulsed their emerald light. His breath came fast against my neck.
“Relax.” I carded my fingers through his hair—long, dark, threaded with those emerald streaks that caught the ambient light. Softer than I’d expected. “We go at your pace. Nothing happens that you don’t want.”
He slid his hands up my thighs. Slowly. Each inch a choice—a deliberate step further from caution, further into trust. They found my hips and settled there, his grip firming.
“What if I want everything?” Quiet. Rough.
Heat surged through me. Real and devastating.
“Then I’ll give you everything.”
I kissed him again—harder now, with intent. No more gentleness, no more caution. I kissed him like I meant it, like Ineededit, and this time he met me halfway. His mouth opened under mine and he tightened his hands on my hips and he pulled me closer with a strength that stole the air from my lungs.
There you are.
The shy reserve cracked. Not shattered—cracked. Enough for the want beneath to bleed through. His fingers dug into my hips as I rolled against him, and the sound he made—low, broken, desperate—sent sparks cascading down my spine.
I nipped his lower lip. Felt him jolt.
“Touch me,” I murmured against his mouth. “Anywhere. Everywhere. Don’t think about it—just feel.”
He explored. Up my back, spanning my ribs, finding the curve of my waist. Exploring with a growing boldness that made my breath go ragged. He slid one hand up to my neck, threading his fingers into my short hair, and tilted my head to deepen the kiss—an instinct I hadn’t had to teach him.
I smiled against his lips.
Fast learner indeed.
I pulled back. Just far enough to see his face.
His eyes were dark—almost black, the emerald swallowed by blown pupils. His runes blazed along every visible inch of skin, pulsing with a rhythm that matched his ragged breathing. His lips were swollen from my kisses, his hair disheveled where my fingers had been.
Wrecked. He looked absolutely wrecked. And I’d barely started.
Something primal and satisfied curled through me at the sight.
I reached for the living disk at my collarbone. Pressed my thumb against its center.
The suit melted away.
It rippled off my skin like water running in reverse—a cascade of black material folding in on itself, retreating from my shoulders, my breasts, my stomach, my hips, until it collapsed into the small disk in my palm. I tossed it onto the cushioned chair beside the bed without looking.
Cool ship air kissed my bare skin. Goosebumps rose along my arms.
Ryzen stared.
Not the quick, polite glance of a male trying not to look. Hestared—open, unguarded, his lips parted and his hands frozen on my thighs where they’d been resting. His gaze traveled over me with the kind of stunned reverence that had nothing to do with technique and everything to do with genuine, helpless awe.
My bioluminescent spots flickered—pink warming toward fuchsia along my collarbones, my ribs, the curve of my hips. Responding to the heat building beneath my skin, broadcasting what my body already knew: I wanted this.
His throat worked. His runes flared so bright they cast emerald shadows across my bare stomach.
“Selena.” My name left him like a prayer. Like something sacred and profane wound together.
“Do you still want this?” I held still. Made myself ask even though the answer was already written in the emerald fire consuming his skin. He needed to say it. Needed that agency.
“Yes.” No hesitation. Raw and absolute.
I climbed off his lap. Stood before him, letting him look. Then I reached for the waistband of his pants.
