Page 31 of Stars in Nova

She parted her thighs and rose, buoyant in the water, her hips above his.

Her deft fingers guided his hand past her barely there swimsuit into her wetness.

For a second, his hands gripped her waist, stilling her.

His eyes asked a question.

She nodded and widened her thighs.

Giving him bare access to her.

Offering him with maximum purchase, she arched her back, offering his lips access to her tits. Sucking hard on her pebblednipples, his fingers working her clit, he almost came, almost fell into bliss.

The world faded, leaving his groans, her exhalation, and the glow of the water surrounding them.

He lifted his head, and her silver-aqua eyes held his, their intensity scorching him.

Their mouths met in a collision of desire and unspoken emotion, a moment both inevitable and completely consuming.

Kisan’s inhalation caught as her warmth surrounded him, her lips tender and inviting against his own.

Her hands slid over the solid plane of his rib cage, fingers exploring the ridges of muscle and the undulating ink of his tattoos. Her palms brushed the intricate patterns, their glow subtle.

She lingered on the tiny black, obsidian-like jewelry embedded into his skin, shifting along his chest, shoulders, and arms.

The dynamic energy that pulsed beneath his dermis responded to her touch, sending ripples of warmth coursing through him.

He experienced the connection as if her fingertips were tracing the very essence of who he was.

Kisan’s world shrank to the sensation of her, the ache that had taken up permanent residence in his soul easing with every press of her body against his.

Her curves fit his hardness like they had been carved from the same stone, a perfect counterbalance to his edges.

The scent of her—clean, fresh, with a trace of the lake—wrapped around him, grounding him in this moment.

The smooth warmth under his palms sent a rush of pleasure through him, igniting a fire he hadn’t dared to stoke for far too long.

Her body molded to his, her movements natural and uninhibited, as though she had no apprehension of him, no hesitation about his past.

The joy of it was almost overwhelming. He wasn’t just touching her—he was being touched in return, not with judgment or fear but with care, desire, and an emotion dangerously close to trust.

His cock jumped, even as his heart lurched.

Samira shifted, her grasp sliding up to frame his face. Her thumbs brushed the roughness of his jawline, her touch gentle but sure.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes searching his.

Kisan’s soul laid bare under her gaze, as if she’d sight of every scar, each failure, andfokk, still chose him.

‘You’re beautiful,’ she whispered, her voice just audible, heavy with a pure honesty that struck deep.

He swallowed hard, his hands tightening on her waist. ‘You mean that?’

Her mouth curved into a small smile, her fingers tracing the cleft of his chin. ‘Naam, I do.’

His throat tightened, the familiar sting of shame rising before her words cut through it like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

‘Despite your walls, your reticence, your mask, you are more man than I’ve ever encountered,’ she murmured.

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