Page 48 of Hope Forged
She frowned. How did Durns have children? There was so much she didn’t know because of her parents’ stupid idea of protection. Had Oz been instructed not to cover the fundamentals of Durn physiology? She hadn’t even known mind-fusion was possible.
Illan’s heat lining the front of her body drew her from her thoughts. How long had they been standing there, locked in an embrace? It didn’t matter. Him holding her, somehow, allowed her to breathe as if her chest had seized and only now was she granted full access to her lungs.
In the time she’d known him, he’d behaved honorably and with sincerity. He made it easy for her to rely on him. Too much wasn’t a good thing, but a little wouldn’t harm her. After all, he’d be leaving Vora soon… Like he’d mentioned.
Without rethinking it, she slipped her arms around his waist and sank into him. His smell was finer than the scent of rain on soil or sunshine on a drying garment.
“Ziamee,” he rasped, tipping her gaze up with two fingers under her chin. He feathered his lips down her cheek.
Her breath hitched. Anticipation climbed as she waited for his hot mouth to claim hers. When he did, a ripple of pleasure swept over her. As new as that sensation was, it had fast become an addiction.
Her heartbeat stopped, then sped up, fluttering in her chest. Her limbs softened, forcing her to tighten her arms. His tongue touching hers exploded heat outward.
She moaned despite her best efforts not to react. His arms crushed her, pinning her to the length of him.
Why does he taste so good?
She leaned into the kiss, ravenous. Leaving the ship became inconsequential. What he would spark in her next was all she could focus on. If he stopped this glorious torment, she might kick him.
A shudder took him. He clasped her face and deepened the kiss. She succumbed, kneading the muscles in his back when he teased her tongue.
One moment, his hands were warming her cheeks; the next, he ran a caress from her shoulders to her fingertips. When their fingers interlaced and their palms locked together, images assaulted her mind—so vivid, and she marveled at the tone and texture of his skin beneath her. His lips were on her breast. His hair cascaded and pooled on her as he dusted kisses between her cleavage to her belly. The coolness against her flushed skin was visceral.
Tingling began between her thighs, aching, throbbing, and drawing a gasp from her. The pleasure was intense…and intimate. Her garments irritated like wasay cloth. Her boots were heavier than normal. Unable to contain the rush of sheer joy, a whimper slipped past her defenses.
“Let go, ohara,” he whispered, his words vibrating through her in a delicious hum.
She cried out. Something inside her snapped. A tsunami of pleasure, torment, and sweet warmth slammed into and barreled through her walls, crumbling them. Her insides shattered in a syzygy of stars. Everything within her stilled. She dug her nails into his hands, needing him to ground her, to stop her from floating off. Tiny kisses across her lips drew her back to reality. She stood fully clothed before him, their palms locked, and yet a stickiness lingered at the juncture of her thighs.
“Illan?” she rasped, then cleared her throat. “What was that?”
He smiled. “Durns call it synthesis. Etterians say fulfillment, and humans use orgasm.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Like organism?”
“Sounds similar, but the meaning is not.”
She snorted. “I far prefer the Etterian word for it.”
He gathered her into his arms and rested his chin on her head. “Still want to head home?”
“Please,” she said. She had every intention of having a long talk with Oz and the subjects he hadn’t touched on.
The hatch swished open.
Padya stuck his head through. “Here you are,” he said, his expression grim. “We must leave now. Faerar’s in danger.”
Chapter Fourteen
Illantriedtokeephis attention off Ziamee. An impossibility when her cries of pleasure still thrummed through him. He shouldn’t have led her down that addictive path, but he’d been too tempted. That wasn’t an excuse but a fact. Everything about her fascinated him even though her need to be independent infuriated him.
He clenched his jaw, casting a glance at Amet, who paced the confines of the kuta. Coll and Brac had opted to join them. Illan valued their strength and intelligence. Xeus had chosen well.
“So she is alive?” he asked Amet, catching him by the shoulder.
Ziamee froze, her face pale.
“Yes. I saw a vision of herbs, then black-gloved hands grabbing and shoving her into a dark box…like this shuttle.”
