“We do.”
“Complications aren’t?—”
I kissed her. Just leaned down and pressed my lips to hers, cutting off her logical arguments with the most illogical thing I could do.
For a second, she froze. Then her hands fisted in my shirt and she kissed me back with a hunger that made my colors flash brilliant gold.
She tasted like possibility. Like every good thing I’d been waiting for without knowing I was waiting. Her lips were soft but demanding, and when she opened for me and my tongue swept against hers, I heard her make a small sound that drove me wild.
I pulled her closer, one hand sliding into her hair, the other gripping her hip. She was all lean muscle and coiled strength,and she kissed like she fought—with total commitment and zero hesitation.
Then she pulled back abruptly, breathing hard.
“We can’t,” she said, despite her hands still fisted in my shirt.
“We just did.”
“Baleck.” My name was a plea and a protest all at once.
“I know you feel this too. I see it in your eyes when you look at me. The way you lean into my touch.” I cupped her face, my thumb stroking her scarred cheek. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
She closed her eyes. “You’re not wrong.”
“Then why?—”
“Because I don’t know how to do this!” The words burst out of her, raw and honest. “I don’t know how to be what you need. How to be soft or open or any of the things that relationships require.”
“Then don’t be soft.” I pressed my forehead to hers. “Be honest. Be you. Let me in, even if it scares you.”
“It terrifies me.”
“I know.” I kissed her again, softer this time. “But we can figure it out together. If you want to.”
She searched my eyes, and I let her see everything. The want. The certainty. The hope.
“I want to,” she whispered finally. “Even though it’s probably going to end badly.”
“It’s not.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” I kissed her forehead, her temples, the scarred skin on her cheek. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
A crack of thunder made us both jump. We looked up to see dark clouds rolling in. The first drops of rain hit moments later. I was still a little gun-shy from my time here before the storms ended. The D’tran were, too.
“Looks like we’re getting a storm,” Iris said unnecessarily.
“We should get inside.” I took her hand and we jogged to an empty building on the settlement’s edge just as the drizzle changed to a steady rain. Inside was basic—stone walls, a shoddy roof, some old empty crates. But it was dry.
Mostly.
Water dripped through cracks in the roof, and we were both already soaked from the sprint. Iris shivered, her clothes clinging to every curve.
I pulled off my outer shirt, which was only slightly less wet than hers. “Here.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shivering.”
