Page 44 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits
My fingers tremble just slightly as I dab at the sticky spot, and when I’m done, I don’t let go.
Neither does he.
His hand comes up slowly, wraps around mine. Warm. Callused. Gentle. Every nerve in my body becomes a tuning fork.
I look up.
His gaze pins me in place—calm, steady, impossibly deep. His pupils are blown just slightly, and the faint glow of his cybernetic eye casts a pale halo along my jaw.
“I want this,” he says.
Three words. No fanfare. No pleading.
Just truth.
It punches straight through my ribs.
My voice comes out small, but firm. “So do I.”
There it is.
The line, crossed.
His breath hitches—barely audible—but I feel it, like thunder in the air before a storm. We stay frozen, tangled in this moment, like if we move too fast we’ll shatter the spell.
But there’s no spell.
Just us. Finally. Here.
I step closer.
“Rekk—” I start, but he lifts my hand to his lips, presses a kiss to the base of my fingers, reverent and devastating.
My knees damn near buckle.
Outside, the sounds of the city hum: transport trams whooshing, vendors calling out evening specials, a child’s laughter echoing off the alley bricks. The world keeps moving.
But in here? It’s quiet.
No, not quiet.Sacred.
He doesn't speak again. He doesn’t need to.
Instead, he leans down and presses his forehead to mine, his breath brushing my lips, heavy and deliberate.
I close my eyes.
I don’t know how long we stay like that—anchored to each other, our bodies barely touching but our hearts crashing against the same drumbeat—but when I finally pull back, I’m not the same woman who walked into the kitchen this morning.
Neither is he.
I squeeze his fingers gently. “You still planning on being my test-taster tomorrow?”
He huffs a soft laugh, so rare it makes my chest ache. “Unless you find someone else who can survive that spiced pudding monstrosity you created.”
I smile, slow and wide. “Coward.”
His teeth flash in a brief, dangerous grin. “Tempt me.”
