“I’m not tired, Warlord,” I finally said, agreeing with him that we wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight. If I had one night with him, if that’s what he wanted, I wouldn’t waste a second of it sleeping. I walked to him and he pushed off the wall, met me halfway.
His hand came up, brushed my hair back from my face, but didn’t touch me. Only his cock made contact as it prodded my belly. For one so big, his touch was gentle. I felt so small, tiny, beside him. My eyes were level with his chest and I couldn’t hold off any longer. I lifted my hand, placed it on his belly, watched as the muscles quivered, heard the way he inhaled a quick breath. It was like electricity, touching him again. A current of desire went through me, lightning-quick, right to my pussy. I clenched my inner muscles in anticipation. I could feel my nipples harden, ache. And that had been from a simple touch.
My hand slid left to right, my eyes following, seeing him and learning his body. A scar here, a flexing muscle there. I admired his physique, his perfection. I paid no special attention to the cyborg parts in his biceps, the faint glimmer of metal in the corded muscles of his neck and shoulders. He was magnificent, and all of that was simply part of him now, just like the other scars.
He didn’t move to touch me, but his hands flexed open and closed as if it took all of his control not to. I tilted my head back, glanced up at him. Way up. His dark eyes met mine and I saw his heart in them. He hid nothing from me. He was raw and hurting. Not just the searing desire, but his need, his desperate and absolute devotion.
Looking into his eyes was the strongest aphrodisiac. I knew I was safe with him. Always. There was love in those dark depths, in the way he trembled, holding back as I touched him. He let me have my way, for now, and I knew by the shudders passing through his body how that control cost him. Yet he did it, for me.
“You’re so damn beautiful.” The confession poured out of me as I spread the fingers of both my hands, splayed them wide so I could make maximum contact with his skin. I parted my lips and his eyes lowered to them. That was it, a silent snap of the tension between us. It broke and so did his control. His hands went to my shoulders as he lowered his head, kissed me. Ravaged me.
I was sinking, drowning, swirling, dizzy. His tongue found mine, mated, sucked, licked. His mouth claimed. Heat surged through me, my mind went blank. I gave myself over to the kiss. To him. To us.
His calloused palms slid lower down my arms, then back up, my nerve endings awakening by the simple touch. Goose bumps rose on my skin, yet I wasn’t cold. I was burning up.
But when his hand squeezed my arm where I’d been injured, I flinched. Moaned into his kiss. I was used to the pain, lived with it, but I’d forgotten to steel myself to it. I’d forgotten everything, and it had only been a kiss.
Angh pulled back, looked down at me. His breathing was ragged, his lips red and slick from the kiss. His eyes were like black fire, but filled with concern. He lifted his hands as if I’d burned him. Perhaps I had, for I felt on fire.
“I hurt you,” he said.
I shook my head. “I was already hurt.”
He closed his eyes, swore. “That is unacceptable.”
“I’m fine. Let’s get back to the kissing.”
His eyes narrowed. “I will not touch you if you are hurt,” he repeated, this time the words were darker, deeper, as if it were the beast who spoke. “It is your arm?”
I flared my elbow out. “It is my elbow. I injured it last night.” I didn’t say more. Didn’t need to. I doubted he cared in this moment how I had been hurt as much as making it better.
“Do you need a ReGen Pod? We will go to the med center at once.”
“No. Absolutely not. It can be healed by a wand.”
He lifted his head, looked around the bathing room. “Do you have a wand?”
“In the other room.”
He stepped back, allowed me to go first, to retrieve it. It seemed strange to be naked, walking about my quarters with him while we weren’t actively making out or having sex. But he’d shut me down as if I’d thrown a bucket of ice water on him and refused to touch me. If I wanted sexy times, I had to fix my arm.
I went to the wall unit, retrieved the ReGen wand and turned it on. I waved it over my arm, the blue light quickly easing the ache. It did need a ReGen Pod, but Angh didn’t need to know that. Not right now. It wasn’t broken, and with the wand’s help, would ultimately be healed. I wasn’t wasting this night with Angh being unconscious in a pod. No way. A wand would appease him and get me what I wanted a lot faster. Him. Inside me. Like now.
After he saw where I was injured, he took the wand from me and waved it himself. “Why didn’t you take care of this earlier? I do not like the fact that you did not care for yourself.”
Shit. I had to either tell a bigger lie or give him the truth.
“Can’t you let it go? I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” Shit. I was blushing now. I could feel the heat creeping into my cheeks. I knew my chest would turn pink, too. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
I put the wand away and looked up at him. His arms were crossed, his brow raised. Hell. He knew I was evading the question.
“Kira, there will be no orgasm for you until you tell me the truth.”
Hardball. Sheesh. “Fine. I—“ I stuttered. There was no other explanation for it. But admitting the truth was going to sting. “If I’d gone to medical for my elbow they would have placed me in a ReGen pod. And I would have been healed.”
“Exactly.” He looked confused.
“Everywhere, Angh. Everywhere.” There, I admitted it. Vaguely, but I told the truth.