Page 6 of The Passionate Orc
"That's a low bar, but I'll take it." I smiled up at him, suddenly aware of how close we were standing. "We could meet here. Once a week, maybe?"
"I'd like that." His gaze dropped to my lips for a heartbeat before returning to my eyes. "A lot."
The air between us thickened. Part of me—the sensible part—knew I should step back. Create some distance from this mountain of muscle who'd crashed into my life like a wrecking ball.
Instead, I swayed slightly closer. "Your technique needs work," I murmured.
"Show me." His voice dropped to a rumble that I could practically feel vibrating through my bones.
Before I could think better of it, I reached for his hand, his enormous hand that dwarfed mine, and wrapped my fingers around his, guiding the brush he still held.
"Like this," I said softly, drawing our joined hands through the air in a sweeping motion. "Fluid. Confident."
His breath caught. I felt the tension in his arm, the careful restraint in his grip as he allowed me to guide him.
"Again," he whispered.
I traced another stroke, then another. The pretense of an art lesson was wearing thin. We both knew this was about something else entirely as the electricity crackled between us, the magnetic pull I'd felt since the moment he'd stayed behind at the gallery to help me clean up my shattered exhibition.
"Emryn." My name in his mouth sounded like a prayer.
I looked up, and suddenly the space between us seemed unbearable.
"Yes?" I managed.
"I'm going to ask you something, and if the answer is no, I swear I'll never bring it up again." His expression was dead serious, those green eyes burning.
My heart hammered against my ribs. "What's the question?"
"Can I kiss you? Because if I don't, I might actually die."
A startled laugh escaped me. "That's a little dramatic, isn't it?"
"Orcs don't do subtle, remember?" He smiled, but uncertainty flickered across his face. "Is that a no?"
Instead of answering, I rose onto my tiptoes, placed my hands on his chest for balance, and pressed my lips to his.
For a heartbeat, he froze, his muscles tense beneath my fingers. Then his arms came around me, gentle despite their strength, enveloping me in his warmth. The scent of leather and pine filled my senses as he drew me closer. His lips met mine, soft and yielding, kissing me back with a tenderness that made my knees weak. A shiver raced down my spine, desire pooling in my core. I melted into him, savoring the rough texture of his skin against mine, the heat of his breath mingling with my own.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing harder, I couldn't help smiling. My heart raced, pounding against my ribs like a caged bird seeking freedom. Nar's eyes sparkled with a mixture of wonder and hunger, a look that sent another waveof longing washing over me. His hands lingered on my waist, his touch searing through the thin fabric of my shirt. The air between us crackled with unspoken want, a magnetic pull that threatened to draw us back together. I licked my lips, tasting him there, savoring the moment.
"Was that clear enough for you?" I asked. "Or do orcs need more direct communication?"
His answering grin was wicked. "I think I got the message. But maybe we should make absolutely sure there's no misunderstanding."
As his mouth came down on mine again, more insistent this time, I thought that helping Nar with his art might be the best decision I'd ever made.
And the most complicated.
Chapter 3
Nar
I stared at the flyer in my hand, heart pounding harder than when I faced the Bloodclaw tribe in last season's Skull Clash tournament.The prestigious Emerald City Art Competition—open to all residents, regardless of species or background.This was it. My chance to show my paintings to the world.
"You gonna eat that paper or what?"
I jumped, nearly dropping the flyer as Grubnuk, my clan brother, peered over my shoulder. His breath smelled of morning ale and smoked hagfish.
