Page 30 of Aries

“Callie…” Her name emerges as a growl. “We can’t…”

“Can’t what? Talk about this?Feelthis?” Her fingers continue their maddening patterns against my palm. “Because I think we’re past pretending.”

She’s right. After experiencing each other’s memories of that cell, after sharing vulnerabilities and fears, there’s no hiding the growing heat between us. Even through the barrier, her body calls to mine.

A particularly violent thunderclap makes me flinch, memories threatening again. But Callie’s touch grounds me in thepresent as she brings our joined hands to rest between us on top of the barrier.

“Stay with me,” she murmurs. “Here, now. Feel my heartbeat.”

Through the thin barrier, our pulses seem to synchronize. Spark’s protective dome takes on a deeper rose-gold color, and theshimmerlingweaves patterns that look suspiciously like a net of stars around us.

“Since the third phase, I’ve begun watching you in the early morning, before you awaken.”

I lift an eyebrow in question. Considering her complete disdain toward me for so long, this is hard to believe.

“Yes.” Her voice is breathy. “I imagine something benign, like tracing your bottom lip with my thumb.”

She almost reaches across the barrier, but catches herself. Instead, she shows me what she’s imagined by performing the action on herself.

It’s a simple movement, the softest brush of skin on skin, yet my imagination has gone into hyperdrive as I feel her thumb on my bottom lip. It’s shockingly arousing, proven by my cock’s movement as it bobs in approval.

“I dream about you,” she confesses into the charged darkness. “About touching you without barriers. About…”

“Don’t.” The word scrapes out rough. “Please. I can’t… if you keep talking like that…”

“You’ll what?” Her voice holds heat and challenge. “Break the rules? Give in to what we both want?”

As if responding to her words, Spark’s light pulses stronger, painting patterns across our skin that make every point of near-contact feel electrified. The barrier between us seems thinner somehow, more symbolic than real.

“Rules…” I mutter, suddenly pushing away from her and rising. The Manual sits on the table, its worn pages delineating our restrictions. And maybe… our salvation.

“Aries?” Callie props herself up on an elbow, watching as I scan the pages. “What are you doing?”

“Reading the rules. Very carefully.” I turn my attention to the section on physical contact. Thunder crashes outside as I absorb every word, looking for what isn’t there. When I turn back to her, heat builds in my eyes. “It says nothing about words being prohibited.”

Her eyes widen as understanding dawns. A slow smile curves her lips as she settles back against the pillows. “Nothing at all?”

“Not one restriction.” Returning to the bed, I maintain a careful distance as I stretch out on my side so I can watch her, the barrier firmly between us. “Which means I can tell you exactly what I’ve been thinking about. Every forbidden thought. Every dream that’s haunted me for five longannums.”

Spark spins excited circles above us, its light taking on a scarlet hue as it creates an intimate cocoon around the bed.

“Tell me,” she insists, gaze locked with mine across the barrier.

“I remember how you taste,” I start, voice dropping lower. “One of the things I’ve felt guilty about all theseannumsis that I licked your throat once, as you slept. You had the sweetest little smile on your face, and I couldn’t resist inching closer and swiping my tongue in the hollow of your throat.”

I wait for her to disapprove. Instead, she rewards me with the same smile she wore as she slept that night so long ago.

“You tasted like summer berries and hope. I dream about that taste. About learning every inch of you with my tongue until you cry out my name.”

Her breath catches. “I remember your grip,” she counters. “So careful, even then, as you clutched my hips to make your entry easier. I’ve imagined them on me a thousand times since then. Imagined you touching me everywhere, following my curves, holding me tighter as I writhe beneath your touch, learning what makes me gasp, what makes me beg…”

The storm outside matches the one building between us as we trade memories, desires, dreams we’ve never dared to voice. Each confession brings us closer to the edge while never quite crossing it.

The storm rattles the windows, each thunderclap punctuating our murmured confessions. Though the barrier remains firmly between us, we’ve gravitated closer until only inches separate us. Close enough to share breath, to see every minute reaction as we trade forbidden thoughts.

Lightning illuminates her face—flushed, lips parted, eyes flared wide and dark with want.

“I watch you during morning meditation,” she admits. “The way your muscles move, how your horns catch the light. I imagine running my fingers along them, learning if they’re as sensitive as they look.”

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