Page 102 of The Alien in the Archive

“Don’t even try to take my knot,” I murmur. “I don’t need you to. Just…use me as you see fit, beloved.”

Page closes her eyes and goes quiet, experimenting with the pace and depth, bracing herself on my shoulders.

She begins to move with more purpose, her hips working in time with mine, the rhythm building between us. My species’ anatomy means sex is usually about pressure, warmth, depth…but with her, I’m learning it’s about friction—and that friction is divine. Her eyes open and lock onto mine, eyelashes fluttering.

We make love like that for what feels like a long, long time; Page experimenting, figuring out what feels good, what makes her spin out of control, what’s sustainable. It’s leisurely, precise…and I realize we haven’t had this before because there’s always a time limit on our liaisons.

Could this be the beginning of forever?

She tilts her head forward, bites her lip, concentrating. I reach up to stroke her hair, smooth it back from her face.

“I’m here,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”

And while what did her in earlier was rough and wild…now it’s the tenderness between us.

Page’s whole body shudders, and then she’s coming; clenching, moaning. I tune into her psychic resonance, and then I’m with her—and even though I haven’t locked myself in, I come purely by virtue of being in her head.

She pulls off of me right away—another odd sensation particular to her species—and wraps herself around me. Iscoot back to lean against the sofa, holding Page and stroking her hair, her back.

She lifts her gaze to mine. “How can I help?” she asks.

I huff. “This is working wonders.”

“It’s incredible how you manage to be sarcastic at the absolute worst times,” she says. “I mean it, Thorne. With the book, with your chronicle…tell me what I can do.”

I smile. “Right now, this is enough.”

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Idon’t want to leave him…but a girl’s got to shower.

Natural springs in the Labyrinth just won’t do it.

I’ve been in the Obscuary with Thorne for days by the time I finally creep out again, squinting into the too-bright sun. After that night—the night when he, quite frankly, fucked my brains out—we ended up diving deep into research. We went back to the reading room, investigated the book on dissent. He worked on his chronicle, while I returned to the Archive every so often to bring more books back to the alcove.

And we weren’t disturbed…so we just kept having sex.

That part was awesome.

But now I’m here, and my cottage feels all wrong, and I just can’t wait to get back to him.

I drop my bag on the table and head to the bathroom to shower, stripping off my clothes along the way. I’m just here to rinse off, then go right back to him; I remind myself of that when I find that I miss his scent.

I've never been like this with a boyfriend.

With…anyone, really.

I reach out to touch his mind when I step out of the shower, scrubbing my hair with a towel. I see him a moment later—in the reading room, going through a collection of Borean art. We're working hard to catalogue everything…then, when Davina asks for her report, we'll come clean.

I hope it's enough.

“I miss you,”I hear Thorne say in the reading room.

I smile softly. “It's been less than an hour.”

He spreads out another book on the table.“Still.”

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