Page 59 of Property of Mako
Lyra looked up then, catching me watching. For a split second, her mask slipped—her eyes wide, guilt flashing before she smoothed it over with a small, practiced smile.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice too steady.
“Fine,” I replied, pushing off the wall and walking toward them. I let my eyes flick over Lily, then back to Lyra. “You two good here?”
“Yes.” Lyra’s answer came too fast. Too sharp.
I didn’t press. Not then. But I filed it away.
Later, when it was just the two of us in my room, the tension had nowhere else to go. Lyra sat on the edge of the bed, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. I caught the scent of her nerves—sweet, sharp, impossible to ignore.
“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she softly observed.
“Watching,” I admitted. My tone came out rougher than I meant.
“Watching what?” she asked, but her voice cracked just a little. She knew.
“You.” I stepped closer, eyes locked on hers. “You and Lily.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “What about us?”
“You love her like she’s yours,” I said flatly.
Lyra froze, her hand tightening on the fabric in her lap. “She is mine. My sister. I’ve been raising her for the last four years by myself.”
But her pulse betrayed her. A rapid, uneven staccato beat I could hear from across the room. I closed the distance between us, crouching in front of her so she had no escape from my gaze.
“Your heart says otherwise,” I murmured as I pressed my index finger to her pounding heart.
She jerked back as if I’d struck her, eyes glistening. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” I challenged, my voice low. “You can lie to anyone else, Lyra. But not to me.”
For a long moment, she just stared at me, lips trembling with words she wouldn’t say. Then she broke the stare, turning her head away.
That was all the answer I needed.
Her silence pressed down on me heavier than any blade. I wanted to rip the truth from her, but the way her hands shook in her lap stopped me. She wasn’t ready to give it, not yet. And the longer I looked at her, the more I hated myself for even thinking about forcing it.
I reached up, caught her chin between my fingers, and tilted her face back toward mine. “You don’t trust me with it yet. Fine. But know this, Lyra—I see you. And I’ll protect you, whether you hand me the truth or not.”
Her eyes glistened, wide and raw. “You don’t understand?—”
“Then make me understand,” I demanded, my voice firmer than I intended, but instead of flinching, she leaned into my hand like she was starved for the contact. That undid me more than any lie ever could.
Before I could think better of it, I kissed her—slow, claiming, demanding all the things she wouldn’t give me with words. She gave them with her body instead, parting her lips, clutching at my cut like she needed the strength of it to stay grounded.
Her breath hitched against my mouth when I pushed her back onto the mattress, following her down, bracing myself above her with one hand while the other skimmed her hip. Heat roared between us, heavy and consuming.
“You’re trouble,” I muttered against her throat, tasting the salt of her skin—wanting so much more than that.
“So are you,” she whispered, arching into me.
And that was it. The dam broke and swept us away.
This time, I took her slow, like I had all the time in the world, like if I went too fast she’d disappear. Every kiss, every touch was deliberate, a silent vow I hadn’t yet spoken. She clung to me like she needed the escape as badly as I did, her moans muffled against my shoulder.
The heat of her tight pussy around my cock was like fire to my soul. She gripped me like she was made to—then again, she was. Her breathing became rapid, and soft pants left her parted lips as I watched her ecstasy creeping in. I waited for it to hit, needing her to find her release before I could consider mine.
