Page 33 of Bounty Hunter's Match

“Show me.”

The dress whispered to the floor as he stripped it away. His hands and mouth mapped every inch of exposed skin, learning what made me gasp and arch.

“Beautiful,” he breathed against my hip. “Wanted this. Wanted you.”

“How long?” I ran my fingers through his hair, freeing it from its tie.

“Since that first day.” His teeth scraped gently along my inner thigh. “Watching you handle Vask. Seeing how you read people...”

“That long?” I pulled him up for a kiss. “We wasted so much time.”

The room was a cocoon, swathed in the crimson hue of emergency lights, the air thick with the scent of anticipation. Barek’s touch was a brand, searing through the thin barriers of fabric that dared to separate our skin. His mouth was a tempest, leaving a trail of fire along my jawline, down the sensitive column of my throat.

“Barek,” I breathed, my voice a whisper of surrender.

He knelt then, his large hands spanning my hips, his breath a warm promise against my skin. His mouth found my breast, and I arched into the exquisite sensation, my fingers threading through his hair, gripping the silken strands as he teased and tortured with lips and teeth and tongue.

His fingers danced lower, tracing the contours of my body with an artist’s precision. When he reached the apex of my thighs, I was already slick with need, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He circled my clit with maddening patience, each stroke a whisper of ecstasy that built the tension within me to an almost unbearable crescendo.

As I teetered on the edge, he slipped his fingers inside me, and the world shattered. My orgasm rolled through me in waves, each one cresting higher than the last, and just when I thoughtI could take no more, he added another finger, stretching me, filling me, driving me to the brink of madness.

I was distantly aware of his voice, ragged and pleading. “Camden, let me have more. Please.”

And I wanted to give him everything. “Barek, I need you inside me.”

He rose to his full height, his eyes locking onto mine as he removed his vest and let it fall to the floor. His gray skin gleamed in the low light, the red markings a stark contrast that only heightened the predatorial grace of his movements.

As he freed himself from his clothing, I caught a glimpse of the differences in his anatomy—the broad triangular head of his cock, the soft flanges that ran down its length. A thrill of excitement shot through me, a curiosity that was quickly overshadowed by sheer, unadulterated want.

He lifted me effortlessly, laying me back on the emergency bed. The cool fabric of the bed against my heated skin was a stark contrast, grounding me in the reality of the moment. I felt the blunt head of his cock notch against my entrance, and then he was pushing inside, stretching me in the most delicious way.

The feel of him, the sheer size and power of his body claiming mine, was overwhelming. I wrapped my legs around his hips, urging him deeper, wanting all of him, every inch. He moved within me with a deliberate pace that bordered on agonizing, each thrust stoking the fire that threatened to consume us both.

Our bodies found a rhythm as old as time, a dance of give and take that left no room for thought, only feeling. The pleasure built, a relentless tide that swept away all pretense, all restraint. I felt myself hurtling toward the edge again, and this time, Barek was right there with me.

“Come for me, Camden,” he commanded, his voice a guttural sound that vibrated through every cell in my body.

And I did, my orgasm crashing over me like a supernova, brilliant and all-consuming. Barek followed me over the edge, his body shuddering with the force of his release, his roar of completion echoing in the small room.

We lay there, entwined, our breaths slowly returning to normal, the scent of our union mingling with the metallic tang of the emergency suite. Barek’s weight was a comfort, a solid presence that anchored me to the here and now.

I traced the line of his jaw with a fingertip, marveling at the contrast between the softness of his lips and the roughness of his stubble. His red eyes met mine, and in their depths, I saw a reflection of my own wonder, my own vulnerability.

“Camden,” he said, my name a benediction on his lips.

I placed a finger over his mouth, silencing any further words. There would be time for talking later, time for processing the enormity of what had just happened between us. For now, I was content to bask in the afterglow, to revel in the connection that had been forged in the heat of our passion.

As the reality of our situation began to seep back in, I couldn’t help but think of the challenges that lay ahead. The Gala, the Mondians, the delicate dance of politics and power that was life on Helios Anchor—all of it paled in comparison to the turmoil within my own heart.

Barek shifted beside me, his movements careful and considerate.

“Camden.” The way he said my name was a prayer. “My Camden.”

“Yours.” I craved him. Needed him like oxygen. “Always yours.”

Despite the dim lighting I’d never felt more seen. More cherished.

His hands and mouth wrote promises on my skin as he brought me higher, closer...

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