Page 189 of The Fifth Heir

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

I crossed the space between our chairs.

Torren remained still as I placed one knee beside his thigh. His hands gripped the chair arms rather than reaching for me.

I settled across his lap.

The hearth turned red.

“This is my choice,” I said.

His gaze dropped to my mouth. “Say it again.”

“I choose you.”

The words did not close a door on Rafe or Bastian. They opened this one—with Torren, in this moment, because wanting more than one of them did not make any individual choice less real.

His control ended.

Torren’s hands closed around my waist and pulled me against him. His mouth met mine hard enough to take my breath.

I gripped his shoulders.

The kiss held none of Bastian’s initial caution or Rafe’s invitation for me to set the pace. Torren kissed with the restraint he had maintained since the training terrace finally released. His tongue moved against mine. One hand slid into my hair while the other kept my hips firmly against his.

I felt how much he wanted me through his trousers.

Heat gathered low in my body.

I moved against him.

Torren broke the kiss.

“Shoulder?”

“Fine.”

“Scale?”

“Fine.”

“Tell me if that changes.”

“I will.”

He kissed me again.

His hand entered the opening of my robe and spread across my bare back. Fire warmth traveled from his palm into my muscles, easing the remaining ache without burning me.

I pulled his shirt over his head.

Torren lifted both arms to help, then watched as I touched the scar across his chest. It ran from one shoulder toward his ribs, broad and uneven.

“Training accident?” I asked.

“Yes.”