Page 59 of Stars in Umbra
When she stuttered, he placed a lean forefinger on her lips. ‘We’ll discuss when and where later.’
Damn, Mo was forceful, and freakin masterful, for few men had the power to slay her like he did.
Desire arced and tightened around them.
His eyes dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes, and the air between them grew thick and charged.
Without thinking, he reached across and brushed a thumb against her cheek, then over her mouth.
‘What? Do I have spinach stuck in my teeth?’ she asked, her breath catching in her throat.
‘Nada,’ he said, his voice a husky whisper. ‘I just can’t help but touch you. Is that OK,mi kaya?’
Again, with that soft-burred endearment.
She wondered what it meant even as she nodded her approval.
His eyes gleamed.
She couldn’t remember the last time any man looked at her like that, with such unguarded yearning.
Like she was a woman worthy of attention and tender loving care, one he wanted to undress not just with his eyes, but with time and focus.
Her barriers, guarded and brittle, crumbled, giving way to a new kind of vulnerability.
‘What’s the formula to unlock you?’ he rasped, his eyes dark with a question that went beyond the surface.
She instinctively knew what he was asking. ‘As soon as I walk through the door, it’s dress on the floor, lit candles, lights turned down, and a delicious drink, like this one, in my hand.’
‘I can master that.’
Her entire womb convulsed.
She reached for her glass again, swallowing the rest in one bold tilt. ‘Make me another?’ she whispered.
He nodded once, a slow, deliberate movement, his voice husky with anticipation. ‘My pleasure, but fair warning, keep going and you won’t ever want to quit. You’ll be so addicted.’
She flushed, aware he wasnottalking about any spirit or cocktail.
MOLAN
Mo could not tear his gaze from her.
Under the soft lamplight, Rina’s skin seemed to glow like burnished bronze, kissed with the warm, golden hue of the hundreds of suspended orbs.
Even the elegant line of her collarbone caught the ambient light, drawing his eye to the graceful curve of her neck.
The sleek black jumpsuit she wore clung to her, accentuating every deliberate movement with an ease and purpose that was both captivating and dangerous.
Fokk, those eyes.
They pinned him in place, holding him with force, like gravity itself had been rerouted through her.
She was a magnet, a singular point of irresistible pull, and he was too far gone even to try to fight the inevitable attraction.
When she spoke of Dunia, of horses and ridges and the simple, profound joy of riding at dawn, an unfamiliar emotion stuttered inside him.
It wasn’t jealousy, nor was it the usual yearning she inspired.
