Page 36 of The Orc's Protection
His eyes meet mine, and the moment stretches—quiet, charged, intimate in a way that feels deeper than touch.
“I’ll get the tea,” I say softly, reluctant to break it.
When I return with two steaming mugs, the sketchbook is set carefully aside. I hand him his cup and sit beside him again, closer than before.
“Thank you for showing me,” I say.
“Few humans ask about what was,” he replies. “Most are concerned only with what comes next.”
“But memory is part of who we are,” I counter. “Your world shaped you. I want to understand all of you, not just the parts that fit neatly into this one.”
His free hand moves to touch my face, massive fingers gentle against my cheek. “You continue to surprise me, Riona Walker.”
“Good,” I say, leaning into his touch. “I’d hate to become predictable.”
His thumb traces my lower lip, and I inhale sharply. Without conscious thought, I turn my face to press a kiss against his palm.
The simple gesture shifts something between us. The tea is forgotten as he sets his mug aside, his gaze never leaving mine. When he leans forward, I meet him halfway.
This kiss differs from our previous ones—no hesitation, no uncertainty, just immediate connection that makes my heart race. My hands find their way to his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him through the thin fabric of his shirt. His arms encircle me, drawing me closer until I’m practically in his lap.
His tusks press gently against my cheeks, an alien sensation that now feels perfectly right. I’ve learned to angle my head just so, allowing our mouths to fit together despite our differences. The rumbling purr building in his chest vibrates against my palms: deep, unguarded, nothing like his voice. I’ve read about this. What I wasn’t prepared for is knowing I caused it. That my hands on his chest, my mouth on his, my body in his lap—that’swhat’s making him sound like that. Like he can’t help it. Like I got past something he keeps very carefully locked.
It’s the most powerful I’ve ever felt in my life.
When we finally separate, both slightly breathless, his eyes have darkened to a deep amber. “We should be careful,” he murmurs, though his hands remain on my waist. “Integration protocols suggest—”
“I don’t care about integration protocols,” I interrupt, feeling unexpectedly bold. “Not here. Not between us.”
His expression shifts, something primal flickering behind his control. “What do you care about, then?”
“This,” I whisper, kissing him again with newfound courage. “Us. Whatever we’re creating together.”
His restraint visibly weakens as I shift fully onto his lap, my knees on either side of his thighs. The new position makes our height difference less important, bringing us nearly eye to eye. His hands span my waist, nearly encircling it completely, the heat of his palms burning through my sweater.
“You test my control, little teacher,” he growls, the sound sending a shiver of excitement down my spine.
“Maybe your control doesn’t need to be so perfect,” I suggest, fingers tracing the strong column of his neck. “Not with me.”
His response is a deeper kiss that obliterates thought. One large hand cradles the back of my head while the other slides lower, following the curve of my hip with reverent exploration. The gentle scrape of his tusks against my skin as his mouth travels from my lips to my jaw to my throat leaves a trail of exquisite sensation.
“Your scent changes when you want me,” he murmurs against my collarbone. “Did you know that?”
The observation should embarrass me, but instead it sends heat pooling low in my belly. “Orc senses,” I manage. “Unfair advantage.”
His chuckle rumbles through me like distant thunder. “I need every advantage I can get with you.”
My sweater suddenly feels too warm, too constricting. Without overthinking, I reach for its hem, pulling it over my head in one fluid motion. Vraag goes perfectly still beneath me, his eyes taking in the simple cotton bra now exposed to his view.
“Is this okay?” I ask, suddenly uncertain despite my boldness.
His large hands settle on my ribs, just below my breasts, thumbs tracing gentle arcs against my skin. “More than okay,” he assures me, voice deeper than I’ve ever heard it. “You’re beautiful, Riona.”
The simple compliment, delivered with such reverence, melts something inside me. I lean forward, pressing my foreheadagainst his. “I want to feel your skin against mine,” I confess. “Can we?”
A hint of a smile touches his lips. “Courtship includes a compatibility assessment,” he explains, his formal phrasing at odds with the heat in his eyes. “Though typically after more ceremonial stages.”
“I think we’ve established that we’re creating our own path,” I remind him, fingers finding the hem of his shirt. “May I?”
