I know he feels like I’ve let him down, and I hate that. But at the same time, I feel the stirring of my own rebellion deep inside. The part of me that has lived my life for other people knows I should shove it down and lock it up tight. But the other part…the other part of me wants to take it out for a spin and see where it goes.
Beckett gets to her feet and stretches, raising her arms above her head so the material of her jumpsuit is pulled taut, showing the lean lines of her figure and her small breasts. She needs to eat. But still, the sight of her sends warmth through every part of me. And my skin suddenly feels so sensitive.
“I’m getting coffee,” she announces. “Anyone else want some?”
She didn’t have to offer. It’s just one more sign that she’s a good person who’s had a lot of bad things happen to her. No one can condemn her for that.
As she passes, I jump to my feet. I carefully don’t look at Merrick, though I can feel him stiffening beside me. “I’ll help you.”
“Yeah, ’cause I can’t make coffee on my own.” But she smiles to let me know she’s teasing.
Or at least I think she’s teasing. It’s not as though I have any experience with this…whatever this is.
I’m aware of everyone’s eyes on us as I follow her out of the room. But I don’t look at any of them, because I have enough trouble figuring out what I’m thinking at the moment without trying to puzzle everyone else out as well.
We don’t talk on the way to the galley, and I have to wipe my sweaty hands down my thighs a couple of times. But once we’re inside, Beckett shuts the door and turns to me.
I nearly jump out of my skin. My heart is racing. My head is spinning. And my lungs feel like someone just set a giant narthompalus on my chest.
What am I doing?
It’s not too late to back out, to just turn around and go back to the bridge. If I do that, then everything will return to normal. Merrick will stop being so disapproving and getting into fights. Beckett will move on to someone else. And soon we’ll be back in the safety of the monastery and I can—
The narthompalus turns into a full-grown drokaray, and all of a sudden I can’t breathe. The walls are closing in on me, and I feel myself getting smaller, smaller, small—
“Rain!” I blink as Beckett brings me out of my daydream.
I blink again, and she comes back into focus. Her eyes are wide and worried as she studies me.
I take a step toward her, closing the distance between us.
Her eyes grow wary, and for a second I think I’ve made a calamitous mistake. But then she leans into me so that her body rests against mine, and nothing has ever felt so good.
I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her even closer, and then tilt my head up in an obvious invitation.
But she doesn’t kiss me. She doesn’t even lean down to brush my cheek with her lips. Instead, she just stands there, her long, soft, beautiful body pressed against mine, and waits for something I can’t quite figure out.
“Beckett?” I want to ask what the matter is, but I can’t quite force the words out of my too-tight throat.
She just smiles. “You started this,” she whispers. “How are you going to finish it?”
And that’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t have a clue. But I know that I don’t want her to back away, just like I know that I want to feel her mouth on mine.
Nerves are jumping in my stomach, and my hands are shaking. But some things are worth doing anyway, no matter how scared you are. Everything inside me tells me this is one of those things.
So instead of wishing and waiting for her to make the move, I take a deep breath and slide my hands along her spine until I’m gently—so, so gently—cupping the back of her head in my palms.
Her breath catches in her throat, and those beautiful yellow eyes of hers turn to molten gold in a moment. Seeing her, hearing her, feeling her tremble against me gives me the courage to keep going. To take the next step.
So I slowly push up onto my tiptoes and press my trembling mouth to hers.
And then we’re kissing and it’s easy and it’s right. So right.
So perfect.
Her lips move against mine, softly at first and then harder and harder, until it feels like we’re fused together, one person in two bodies.
Fire burns through me—dancing along my nerves, roaring through my veins. And somehow still leaving me hungering for more.
I clutch at her hair, trying to be careful of her injuries even as heat consumes me from all directions. But Beckett just laughs—a low, throaty sound that only fans the flames inside me. She nips at my lower lip, traces her tongue along the seam of my lips, licks at the corners of my mouth until I open for her. And then she darts inside, her tongue stroking slowly, softly, sensually, against mine.
And out of nowhere I’m drowning in her, dying for her, desperate for this kiss to go on and on and on.
And even more desperate for whatever comes next.
I’ve never felt like this before, never imagined that I could feel like this. Like every beat of my heart is her name, like every breath I take is a way to draw her deeper inside myself.
She makes a sound low in her throat and starts to pull away. But I’m not yet ready to let her go, not yet ready to give this feeling up. And so I clutch at her, my fingers tangling in her hair, my body wrapping itself around her as I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her.
She responds with a moan, her hands sliding down to cup my bottom. And then she’s boosting me up.
My eyes go wide, and I make a startled sound deep in my throat, but Beckett laughs that sexy laugh of hers again. It sends shivers down my spine, even before she coaxes me to wrap my legs around her waist. And then she’s turning us, bracing my bottom against the counter as she grabs my hair in her hand and pulls my head back hard enough to make me squeak.
“Okay?” she asks.
But I’m already diving back in, my hands cupping her cheeks as I bite and kiss and lick my way inside her mouth.
She smells like the searing wind on Serati, tastes like the sweetly sour little berries I love to pick from the bushes that grow along the edges of the monastery’s greenhouse. Feels like every dream of home I’ve ever had. And I never want to let her go.
We kiss until our mouths are bruised. Until our lungs burn for oxygen and our bodies burn for each other. And then we kiss some more.
Eventually, Beckett slides me gently down the cabinet until my feet hit the floor once more. My knees buckle, and she grabs onto me with a little laugh, and I bury my face in her chest as she holds me against her until my legs can once again support my weight.
Only then does she pull away just far enough that she can slide a finger under my chin and tilt my face up to hers. Her cheeks are flushed, her mouth is soft, and her eyes are a warm pool of amber that it feels like I can fall straight into.
I want to fall into them. No, I want to dive into them—into her—and then wrap myself around her and keep her safe from all the terrible tragedies that haunt her.
“You’re sure?” she murmurs, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.
I know what she’s asking, and I nod—I’m not certain I can speak. Still, I force myself to say the words, because she deserves them. “You know when Merrick was fighting with Ian earlier? I didn’t want Merrick to get hurt, but I also didn’t want him to win.”