The door slides closed behind us, sealing out the rest of the world. Since being here, I’ve learned to love the sound of silence. I used to take it for granted in Zrogmul, but it’s so rare here, I miss it almost as much as I miss having King Lix’tuk all to myself.
“Let’s get ready for bed,” he growls, walking over to the armor rack.
“Just because I’m tired doesn’t mean I want to go right to sleep,” I say, walking behind him, running my hands along his scarred back once it’s bare. “It seems like that’s all we do now.”
“It’s easier that way,” he sighs. “Less temptation.”
“I know you keep telling yourself that when this is all over, you’re going home alone,” I can’t quite keep the frustration out of my voice as I continue rubbing his back. “I wish you’d listen when I tell you that isn’t going to happen. I’m coming with you.”
“You shouldn’t,” he growls, finally turning to face me. “We both know why.”
“Then for tonight, let’s not think about why we can’t do what we both want to do,” I say softly, meeting his dark gaze. “Let’s justenjoy the time we have. It could be days before we get time alone like this again.”
“You’re right,” he replies, taking my hands. “I love you, Clover. I wish I could give you the entire world instead of my broken piece of it.”
“I don’t need the world, I just need you,” I will my words to penetrate through his stubborn skull.
King Lix’tuk exhales, slow and heavy, like he’s been holding his breath for months. His crown is already gone, hanging on the rack beside his armor. Without it, he looks less like the king everyone follows and more like the orc I’ve been sleeping beside. The orc who kissed me like he regretted every second he wasted not doing it sooner.
For a moment, we just look at each other, so many unspoken words passing between us before he finally breaks the silence.
“You’re staring,” he rumbles.
“So are you,” I say softly, letting my dress slip down my shoulders. “And since you’re staring, I may as well give you something to look at.”
His dark eyes move over me. Not the way men looked at me on the auction stage. Not like I’m something to be bought or claimed or used. He looks at me like he’s still trying to understand how I got past every wall he built, how I found the one living thing in Zrogmul and dragged it out of the darkness.
“I’m allowed,” he huffs, pushing my dress to the floor, his eyes roaming over every inch of my exposed skin. “You’re mine.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “Am I? You seem to be in a hurry to get rid of me.”
His gaze snaps to mine, and for one terrible second, I think he’s going to say that hewantsme to go. That I’m free now. That he won’t keep me. That he still thinks loving me means pushing me back toward the life I was robbed of long before I stepped on that stage. Instead, he steps closer.
“You said you didn’t want to talk about it tonight, so I’ll respect that,” his voice vibrating through my body. “But as long as you’re in my arms, you’re mine. I just hope you find enough sense to stop rushing into them.”
“They’re the only place I want to be,” I breathe out, stepping closer.
His jaw tightens. His hand lifts, but he doesn’t touch me right away. He stops with his fingers close to my cheek, as if he’s giving me a chance to move away. I don’t. His knuckles brush my skin, so gentle it almost hurts.
I step into him, rising on my toes as much as I can, and he bends before I even reach for him. His mouth finds mine with a force that steals the breath from my lungs. This kiss isn’t surprising like the first one. It isn’t desperate in the same way either. It feels inevitable. Like we’ve been moving toward this since the moment I spilled coffee on his armor and looked up at him, terrified and stubborn and alive.
His arms close around me, lifting me until my feet barely touch the floor. I cling to him, fingers sinking into his mane, pulling him closer because close still isn’t close enough.
He groans into my mouth, and the sound rolls through me like thunder beneath my skin.
Months of wanting him come rushing back all at once. Every night I slept beside him and tried not to move too close. Everytime I woke to find his side of the bed empty. Every touch that stopped before it became too dangerous. Every warning. Every impossible ache. Every almost.
His tusks graze my lower lip, and I shiver. He stills immediately.
“I’m fine,” I whisper against his mouth. “Kiss me again.”
A rough sound leaves him, half growl, half surrender. Then his mouth is on mine again.
He kisses me like he’s done being careful with everything except my heart. His lips move over mine, firm and hungry, and when I part for him, his tongue slides against mine with a possessive stroke that makes my knees go weak. He catches me before I can sag, lifting me fully into his arms.
I wrap my legs around his waist without thinking. He freezes and so do I. There’s no mistaking the way his body reacts. No mistaking the giant, rock hard cock pressed between us. The awareness hits both of us at the same time, sharp enough to make the room feel smaller.
“Clover,” he growls, my name rough with warning.
