Page 75 of Hope Forged
Cool air confirmed she’d breached the fastening, then she squeezed her hand between fabric and skin and gripped him. All while bombarding him with visions of her lips wrapped around his kok.
A growl slipped past his defenses.
“Boots,” she whispered, pulling away to do more than remove her footwear. Off went her pants, too, exposing her legs to his rapt attention.
She stepped into the cubicle and gazed at him as the water sprayed over her. Rivulets flowed over her curves, dripped from her nipples, ran between her thighs, and swirled at her toes. Droplets clung to her lashes and darkened her hair. She’d never looked more beautiful, enticing, and more so, now that he’d tasted every inch of her. He doubted he’d ever forget those moments, nor did he want to.
Exploding into action, he stripped until he was bare. A shiver skittered across his sensitive skin, adding to his feverish breathing. With a sweep of his foot, he shoved aside their discarded items and joined her.
He caught her hands, laced their fingers, and swooped in for a kiss. Her lips, the smell of her drenched skin, the warmth pouring off her only heightened the taste of her when her tongue dueled with his. Everything within him stilled as if time slowed. She mattered. She was what he’d been searching for. All those months spent in the Etterian archives had led to this female.
With their lips locked, he nudged her back until her backside hit the wall. It was too much: their joined hands, their shared fantasies, the way she hooked her legs around him, exposing her most vulnerable part, the sensations when he thrust into her, her cries and whimpers as she clung to him.
He bit his lip, trying to stem the words his soul chanted…I love you, Ziamee.
“Illan,” she crooned just as heat rose and washed over his kok.
Blinding light consumed his mind in sheer ecstasy. The memory of words lingered on his tongue. He knew not what he said, whether he spoke or not. And at this precise time in his life, he didn’t care. He cupped her face, holding her still for a sweet kiss.
She tightened her arms around him, not moving as if she, too, cherished what they’d shared.
“Hungry?” he asked.
She chuckled, lowering her legs the very second he pulled out. “Starving.”
“Same,” he said, not meeting her gaze.
If he did, he’d reveal to her what she meant to him. He’d beg her to let him claim her… And he wanted that, more than she could know. He just wanted her to have no distractions, to choose a life with him without hesitation.
Which meant everything had to be resolved with nothing trapping her on Vora.
“Do you think Brac knows how Seba’s doing?” she asked, raising her face to the spray before stepping out.
With the blast of the air dryer, Illan didn’t speak; only when he, too, was dry and wearing a robe did he answer. “Yes. I am curious as to his meanderings. Perhaps he already knows where females of his kind can be found.”
She grinned. “I hope so. Now, come choose. What are you in the mood for?” She tapped the rehydrator, not glancing at himwhen he looped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder.
“You choose,” he said, buried his face in the curve of her neck, and hummed in contentment.
Chapter Twenty
Sebaknewhiskind,with evidence that he visited various packs often. As wonderful as that news was, Ziamee blinked, struggling for normalcy when she was in a state of stunned joy.
I love you,had tumbled from Illan’s lips.
And yet, he acted as if he hadn’t said a word. Maybe she’d imagined the confession. After all, he’d been in the throes of pleasure. He might have been as overwhelmed as she’d been. Maybe those words didn’t matter when in the moment? She couldn’t say, not knowing much about such things. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Oz about it.
Still, her heart pounded with unbridled happiness at the possibility that Illan had revealed how he felt about her.
She splayed her fingers across her chest, fighting for calm. Oh, yes, she wanted his love and needed her future to include him. The mere thought of bidding him farewell made her spirit flail in panic.
No more mating.
No more partner to argue or do things with. Could she ask him to stay? Would he? Could she return to a life with her Seba, on her own, hunting for ceaza? A deep part of her knew that the old Ziamee was long gone. She’d have to forge a new home for herself. Everything had changed from the second he’d strolled onto Vora.
She replayed him stepping from his shuttle just before it sank into the sand. His skin had glowed in the sunlight. His hair had flowed around him, whiter than hers—cleaner, no doubt. And his armor had accentuated every muscled inch of him. Yes, she was no longer the same Ziamee.
He’d changed her without her permission, molding her around him, his technology, knowledge, loyalty, integrity, sensual kisses… She should be furious with him, but she’d learned at a young age that to survive, she had to adapt.
