Page 51 of Pursued By the Orc
My nerve had faded a little now that we were on his turf. This was something that I didn’t do often. Something that I held sacred. And now I was looking up at the male that I’d fallen for, wondering if I could keep going.
Damn you, indecisiveness.
“You can take off your jacket,” I said, trying for casual, missing by a mile.
He did, slowly. The movement was unhurried, deliberate, as if he didn’t want to spook me. But at the same time it felt like a promise.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” I blurted, before I could stop myself.
“Like me?” he asked, and I wished that the lights were on so that I could see him. See his expression. In the darkness I couldn’t see anything much of him, but I knew that he could see me. Orc night-vision was legendary. Theywerethe ultimate hunters after all.
“Someone so kind and controlled. If it was up to me, I’d have kept going on that couch,” I told him, shaking my head at how little control I truly had when it came to this male.
“Trust me,” he murmured, “that control is hanging by a thread.”
Something inside of me snapped—not like breaking, but like opening. I stepped closer. Close enough to see the faint scar along his neck that had intrigued me since the first time I’d noticed it, the way his pulse ticked just beneath it.
I’d finally be able to touch it. To ask him about it. I moved closer. Close enough to smell the mix of leather and cedar and something warm and unplaceable that was entirely him.
My hand lifted, fingers brushing his collar. “Then stop pretending you have any,” I whispered to him, and he reached out a hand, the lights coming on in a blaze.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a long second, but when I opened them, I saw what he’d meant for me to see. The hunger—no, thestarvationin his expression.
His breath caught. And then—finally—the space between us disappeared.
It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t rough, either. It was something in between, something that felt real and hungry and alive. The kiss was deep and long. My back hit the wall before I even realized we’d moved. He tasted like heat and familiarity and the kind of risk I’d never been brave enough to take.
I barely noticed when he lifted me—easily, like I weighed nothing, which was the furthest thing from the truth—or when my dress slipped against his palms. My fingers tangled in his shirt, tugging it free, tracing the lines of muscle that flexed beneath it. Every inch of him was built for strength, but the way he touched me was reverent, almost careful, as though I might vanish if he let go too soon.
Tenderness moved across, making this different from anything I’d ever done before. There was love here. And it made it sweeter, more special. A bonding of two spirits that had been aching to be together.
And still, as always with him, there was laughter, too—breathless, clumsy laughter when the heel of my shoe caught on the rug and when he accidentally knocked into a lamp. He murmured an apology but kept moving. It was messy and real, the kind of chaos that made my heart ache.
We stumbled toward the bedroom in fragments—a tangle of hands, words, and heat. He whispered my name once, just once, in that low rumble that made it sound like a secret.
The world went soft around the edges after that as we entered his bedroom. His scent was going to be death of me, I was sure. It filled the area and had me so wet, I wondered if I was going to embarrass myself.
“Put me down,” I whispered against his cheek, rubbing my face against his, letting him know that I wasn’t going to stop this. And I certainly wasn’t. There was no physical way that I could.
He did, allowing me to get to my feet and even holding me after, as if he knew I was weak in the knees. That would usuallymake me embarrassed, but not this time. Not with him.
I moved us toward the bed, pressing my hand on his chest. When we got there, I pushed him down until he was lying on the bed. Then I straddled him, peeling off my dress as I went. This was the boldest I had ever been, but damn it, if it was going to be with anyone, it was going to be with him.
CHAPTER 34
Emma
“Gods, Emma,” Krusk whispered between panting breaths. “You look so...” he trailed off as his eyes ran over the skin I’d exposed to him. “What works best for you?”
I peered down at him, realization that this big male wasmineto do what I wanted. To partake of. That was a heady feeling that I wascertainwould go to my head at some point. If it hadn’t already.
He’s shirtless under me, and I can see the scars on his body. Scars that came from defending his family and his home. From surviving. This gentle, sweet male had survived so much and made it through alive. He deserved a reward for everything he’d been through.
I bit my lip, admiring him for a moment longer before I reached for the zipper of his pants. He stayed silent, breathing sharply, staring at the way I was unbuttoning and unzipping as ifhe was mesmerized.
His boxers were tented and he was so huge under me. So hard. I licked my lips, remembering how he felt against me when we were on the sofa. I’dknownhe would be big. Butthis. Trepidation filled me for a long moment before determination replaced it.
I was going to fuck my male. Hopefully it wouldn’t kill me. Swallowing hard at the thought, I switched my thoughts to how good he made me feel with a kiss. The rest was going to be even better. I was certain.
