Page 47 of Edge of Stars

By absorbing her startled moan with my primal growl.

She’s already extending her sexy little sound into a mewling-sighing combination that triggers several Richter magnitudes between my legs, but I refuse to let them climb to impossible levels. Not yet. Only to the point that I know, without a doubt, how pliant and ready she’ll be once I raise back up by a few inches.

Sure enough, as I pull back, her gaze is hooded and her limbs are limp. But confusion and indignation creep back across her expression. She pulls in a huge breath, clearly readying a demand to go with the mood, but I’ve got the upper hand of preparedness—and use it.

“So. You ready to tell me about the torch bearers now?”

The breath leaves her on a half-snarled sigh. “Why does it matter?”

I sober up every inch of my own face—including the scrutiny I refuse to relent. “Because I love you. And, as I said not too long ago, will continue to do so for the rest of my days. Everything about you is my concern, especially the stuff that scares you to the point of screaming in your sleep.”

She rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t screa—”

“I heard you, Kara,” I break in. “I could hear you in the middle of my dream.”

“Ah.” She folds her arms, dipping a droll nod. “Your dream. I see. But we don’t get to hear about the torch carriers in that one?”

“They skipped right by me.” I spread my hands with a shrug. “They must’ve heard you and Twiglet were the best party to hang with.”

“Well, they can forget that hot tip.” Though her words are agitated spews, the fingertips she reaches to wrap around mine are quiet coils. Grips that get stronger as soon as she sucks in more air. “Exactly how I want to.”

She doesn’t relent there. Her beseeching touch stretches out again until her nails dig into the flesh at the base of my fingers. They’re the only parts of her hand that aren’t trembling.

“Please, Maximus,” she whispers as our stares lock again. “I need to forget.” Then, as she flattens her other hand to my chest and starts gliding it slowly downward, “Will you help me?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

KARA

I don’t get very far. My hand halts as soon as his muscles tense beneath it, and I swear I can feel his heart beating in every one of those hard, hypnotizing moguls.

I want to explore further, wondering if the same pressure is punching him everywhere, but we’re not just here because we asked to borrow his uncle’s place for a little island getaway.

Velo.

The veil.

I sigh, wishing the definition was all-inclusive. That I could hide away in full from the fear and agony that are invading every spare molecule of my psyche. And now, even my dreams. Intruding on them so much that I’m yanking Maximus out of his own slumber. The REM stages he doesn’t get enough of, thanks to the demigod DNA that often rouses him at ungodly hours.

I should be pleading for his forgiveness right now. Instead, I’m roaming my hands all over the ridges of his lower abdomen, slinky and slow and merciless, until he’s hissing as my fingers graze the area just above the wiry curls that peek over the unhooked waistline of his tuxedo pants.

His…pants.

Oh, God. How have I been ignoring that this fine male is in this bed with me, naked to his waist and staring at me with those heavily hooded cobalts? Have I been that absorbed in my stress to miss all these amazing details?

The tidbits I’m not skipping now.

Except for the fact that I dared to call them tidbits.

Nothing is a tidbit when it comes to my beautiful mountain of a husband.

Like the parts of him that I explore with careful, naughty caresses. That I savor with slow sultriness, moving my touch outward. Skating away from the moguls of his abs, to the places where his muscles are long, sleek ski runs. It’s triple-diamond representation, leading back down to the triangle that points straight to—

Here.

A bulge that turns his crotch into hills of perfect, erotic heat. And fascinating hardness…

His hiss is twice as fierce. I layer it with my appreciative moan while dipping my hand in and around the soft cotton of his black briefs. My sound is born from frustration as much as appreciation. How I crave to simply tear everything off him, though I still acknowledge the wisdom of the coverage—most importantly because he still doesn’t look wholly in for this plan.