"Then explain it to me."
How could he explain? How could he possibly put into words the way his entire body ached for her or the way his orc instincts howled every time she was near? How could he tell her that he'd spent years building walls specifically designed to prevent this kind of vulnerability?
"I'm not—" He searched for the right words. "I'm not gentle. When I want something, I want it. Completely. Consumingly. If I let myself have you?—"
"If?"
"When," he corrected, because clearly his mouth had stopped taking orders from his brain. "When I let myself have you, I won't be able to stop at once. I won't be able to treat this like something casual. Something temporary."
Her breath caught. "Who said anything about temporary?"
"Your camper says it. Your lifestyle says it. You said it yourself—you don't stay."
"Maybe—" she hesitated, and for the first time since he'd known her, something vulnerable flickered across her face. "Maybe I've never had a reason to."
He kissed her. Not like the arena—desperate and paint-smeared. This was deliberate. Focused. He kissed her the way he approached everything that mattered, with absolute commitment and laser focus.
She melted into him immediately, her arms winding around his neck, her body arching up to press against his. The refrigerator hummed behind her. The protein shake pooled forgotten at their feet. The world outside ceased to exist.
He lifted her easily, hands gripping her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around his waist like she'd been waiting for this exact moment. The movement pressed them together in ways that made coherent thought impossible.
"Where—" she gasped against his mouth.
"Table."
He carried her across the kitchen without breaking the kiss. His perfectly organized, obsessively maintained dining room table was actually clear for once. He set her on the edge, and shepulled back just far enough to look at him, her lips swollen and her eyes dark with desire.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"I have never been less sure of anything in my life." He cupped her face in both hands, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "And I have never wanted anything more."
"That's—" she laughed breathlessly. "That's confusing messaging."
"Welcome to my existence since you arrived."
Her laugh softened into something warmer. "I do that to people."
He kissed her again, slower this time. Savoring. His hands traced the curves of her body with the same focused attention he brought to studying game footage, cataloging every response and every small sound. When his thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts, she shuddered.
"You like that," he murmured.
"Yes. Very much."
"Good." He repeated the motion, watching her eyes flutter closed. "I like learning what you like."
"Tarmek—"
"Tell me if I'm too rough."
She opened her eyes and gave him a look that was half exasperation, half something hotter. "You won't be too rough. I promise."
She reached for the hem of her tank top and started to pull it over her head. "Now can you—oh."
His hands covered hers, stilling the movement. "Let me."
She dropped her arms and let him take over, watching his face as he slowly revealed the skin beneath. He pulled it over her head and tossed it somewhere behind him, immediately forgetting where as his attention focused entirely on the woman in front of him.
She was perfect. All pale, freckled skin and delicate curves, decorated with the occasional smudge of paint she'd missed during her shower. A small sun tattoo adorned her right shoulder.
