Page 108 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

His lips quirk up into the barest hint of a smile, before he gently, ever so gently, tilts her head towards his and kisses her.

It’s different from the drunken night.

Before, he had been so full of fury, like every bit of control had left his body and all that was remaining was the want for her, but now his lips are tender against hers, softer, like he’s taking his time to explore her.

She curves her hand on the collar of his sleep shirt, holding him in place, kissing back.

This time, kissing Gurlien is like a thorough examination, like he’s discovering her and sharing in the act of knowledge. Like each motion and small adjustment is an instruction, a revelation of more of herself that he gets to guide, and the fingers in her hair tangles lazily.

Instead of a fire roaring until it consumes everything about her, it’s a slow growth of warmth, like a steady lighting of a candle, until even her fingertips tingle with the potential.

His lips part, and she mirrors him, and the skin on the palm of her hand warms at each moment of touch. It’s asafer burn, she’s not on the precipice of losing control, and she can experience it all.

He makes a small noise in the back of his throat, something gentle, and she pulls away, breaking the kiss.

“Is that okay?” he whispers, brushing the hair that had fallen in her face.

Without words, she nods. It’s a different sort of sensation, not the lump in her throat choking her out, but the knowledge that no words she can think of would come close to expressing what is in her.

Except warmth, and with that warmth, a sort of profound safety.

He smiles at her, heartbreakingly so, before settling back in the pillow, and she settles with him, an easy relaxation through her body.

Yes, there’s the want there, but without the stressful ever pushing need behind it.

Instead, comfort.

His hand traces a circle on the thin stripe of skin where her sleep shirt rides up, and it’s almost overwhelming all over again.

And she never wants him to stop.

She splays her fingers out on his chest, on the collar of the thin T-shirt he wore to bed, and there’s the same want she had at the bar, lurking beneath the knot in her throat.

She’s not a stranger to sex, not really, but never before has she had this strong of physical desire to go along with it. It’s almost a wave, threatening to drown her, and all they’re doing is some idle touching while lying next to each other.

He’s not even wearing his glasses, they’re neatly folded up on the side table, leaving him entirely without armor.

“Your eyes did a thing,” he murmurs, and she’s close enough she guesses he could tell. “Most of the time they just glow, but they flickered off right then.”

“That happens,” Ambra says, debating being embarrassed, but that would entail her pulling away. “Part of the…side effects of the processes.”

He hmms in the back of his throat, and she could press a kiss to his neck so easily. Anyone could, if they were this close, and the level of vulnerability he’s at is astounding.

That anyone without powers would let anyone get this close.

And that despite all that, he’s letting her.

So she leans in, pressing her lips to the tender point right on the side of his neck, and for a brief moment she can feel his pulse.

His breath hitches and the hand on her back briefly spasms.

“Ambra,” he murmurs warningly, and another thrill goes down her spine.

“Yes?” she asks, propping herself up on her elbows to watch his face. “You’re going to tell me if I overstep, right? If I get to stop you, you get to stop me.”

A thousand emotions flicker over his face, starting with the widening of his eyes and a looseness to his jaw.

“Right?” She pokes him on his rib cage, and he squirms at that, the corners of his eyes creasing into a smile. “That goes both ways?”

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