His hands were everywhere—sliding up my back, tangling in my hair, gripping my hips and pulling me against him. I felt the heat of him through the thin fabric of my clothes, in the hard planes of muscle and the barely controlled strength in every touch. The power in his body was overwhelming, the knowledge that he could break me without effort, but every movement was careful. Restrained. Like he was terrified of hurting me even as he couldn't stop touching me.
I'd been kissed before. Had sex before. Thought I knew what desire felt like.
But this was different.
This was need and want and something deeper I didn't have words for. This was two broken people reaching for each other in the dark, trying to find something good in the middle of hell—trying to prove we were still capable of feeling something other than pain and desperation.
His mouth moved to my jaw, my throat, and I gasped when his teeth grazed my pulse point. Not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to send electricity racing through my veins. His breathing was ragged against my skin, hot and uneven, and I felt the way his hands tightened on my waist—
Then suddenly he jerked back.
Not far. Just enough that I felt the shift in his ribs, saw the wince of pain cross his face as the broken bones protested the movement. But his hands didn't let go. His fingers stayed locked on my waist, trembling, like he physically couldn't release me even though every instinct was screaming at him to pull away.
"I'm hurting you," he said, voice rough. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide. "I'm—"
"You're not—"
"I am." His grip loosened fractionally, but his hands stayed exactly where they were. "I'm too rough. I'm going to—"
"Ahrick—"
He buried his face in my neck and groaned against my skin, the sound vibrating through me. His whole body shook with the effort of not pulling me back against him. His hands flexed on my waist—tightening, loosening, tightening again—like he was fighting a battle with himself and losing. For one heart-stopping moment, I felt him pull me closer, felt him about to surrender to what we both wanted, and then he caught himself.
I pulled at his shoulders, trying to get closer, trying to eliminate every inch of space between us. My fingers found the edge of the bandages I'd wrapped around his ribs and drifted lower to the edge of his loincloth.
He caught my wrist.
"Stop."
The word was rough. Pained. But his body told a different story—his chest heaving, his muscles trembling, his hand still gripping my wrist like he couldn't decide whether to push me away or pull me closer. Want and self-loathing. Need and unworthiness. Desire and the absolute conviction that he didn't deserve to feel it.
I froze. "What's wrong?"
"We can't." He pulled back, but his other hand stayed locked on my waist, fingers digging in like an anchor. Like if he let go completely he'd shatter. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not—" He released my wrist and turned away, but his body was still trembling, still taut with barely suppressed desire and self-hatred. "I don't deserve someone like you."
"That's not true." The idea was utterly ridiculous. Other than my grandpa and brother, he was the best man I'd ever known.
"It is." His hands clenched into fists. "You deserve someone who—"
"Don't." I grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at me. "Don't decide what I deserve. Don't make that choice for me."
"I killed innocent people."
"And I betrayed everyone who trusted me." My voice was fierce. "I sold out the Alliance. Sold out people who thought I was their friend. I made it possible for Declan to continue his evil. We're both carrying things, Ahrick."
"You were protecting your family. I was just following orders."
"You were lied to. Manipulated. Used as a weapon by someone who didn't care about the consequences." I moved closer, my hand sliding up to cup his face again. I felt the tremor run through him, saw the way his eye squeezed shut like he couldn't bear to see whatever he expected to find in my expression.
But he didn't pull away.
His hand came up, covering mine, pressing my palm harder against his face like he needed the contact even as it burned him.
"I see you. All of you. The assassin and the prisoner and the man who's fighting to be better. And I'm not repulsed."
