Page 68 of Stars in Umbra
Rina blinked in the darkness.
Mo was still asleep, curled into her like a fortress of flesh and bone. His breathing was steady, warm against her throat.
She turned, studying him.
He looked different in sleep; innocence in his now smooth brow, a hint of a smile on those lush lips as if his soul was at peace.
It was uncanny how it seemed as if he’d always been meant to lie in this bed with her in his arms.
She wanted to run her fingers over his jawline and cheeks, to kiss and adore him for the rest of the day.
She was so gone for him.
Yet how was one man able to take over so much space in her mind, in her heart, in such a short time?
Rina was gloriously, terrifyingly, not ready.
Despite all her pining for a man, she was not prepared for a committed relationship.
Nor was she willing to give up her career, which was on the fast track to General.
She was on the verge of gaining her Brigadier stripes.
Her work had galaxy-reaching impact and purpose, and she enjoyed her independence.
Did she have time for a love affair, and was she finally setting aside her ‘no romance’ rule?
Still, her heart leaped at the chance to pamper her softer side, for a delicious, responsibility-free moment.
She studied Mo in sleep, realising she did want to indulge, to have a carefree fling with a man who had to be the galaxy’s best lover, at least in her estimation.
Promising not to overthink it, she pressed a kiss to his shoulder.
Then with care, she slipped from bed, dressing in the hush before dawn.
When she was ready, she stood over him for a beat, eyes on him, drinking in his beauty, still in awe at the incandescence of their lovemaking.
With a sigh, she forced herself to leave.
She had negotiations to lead, war zones to navigate, and rebels to disarm.
However, throughout the day, as she sat in conferences and signed off on ceasefire terms, her mind strayed.
Back to the man who kissed her back to sleep, to the gorgeous man she left entwined between the sheets.
MOLAN
Mo woke alone.
The sheets were warm, tangled around his legs, still steeped in the scent of her, jasmine and heat, musk and sweat, that raw, aching perfume of sex and surrender.
His eyes blinked open, lashes sticky with sleep, the first rays of dawn painting the ceiling in gold. But the bed, her space in it, was empty.
He turned his head, nose brushing the bedding where her hair had fallen. Her fragrance was still fresh on the linens, was primal, and he rolled into her pillow, breathing it in deeply.
His spirit lit up and flamed.
Not just with lust but with a soul yearning need, a profound, searing, god-touched hunger he hadn’t ever experienced.
