Page 154 of Starside

I lift to my toes again, slide my hands up his armor with a possessiveness that doesn’t make sense at all, the silver spotless and smooth, not a single mark marring it, until the metal ends, then I slip my fingers beneath it, feeling the strong muscles of his upper chest, touching as much as I can and—

Fuck.

That’s the word Raker growls, right before his other hand dives below my shirt.

He strokes up my sides, calluses scraping my sensitive skin, and my blood turns molten. He’s the head of the knights I’ve feared my entire life, given what they hunt. Right now, he’s touching silver and he doesn’t even know it.

Who he is should smother this flame in me, but it doesn’t. I lean into him, desperate for him to touch more, to go higher, and when his rough knuckles gently trace the heavy underside of my chest, I tense, readying myself for a flash of pleasure. But before he reaches where I’m aching, his hands retreat, settling on my waist. His grip is loose, his fingers trembling, almost like he’s afraid to touch me. Like he thinks he might break me.

But I need more.

And I’m done waiting.

Consumed by this flaming want, I lift even higher on my toes, loop my arms around his neck, then drag my chest against his hard armor, desperate for friction, my nipples tight with need. He groans, a rough tortured sound in the back of his throat, and his hands drop away.

He’s going to finally put a stop to this madness, I think. It’s probably for the best.

But then he grips the hems of my shirts.

And tears them both over my head.

Shit.

I gasp, flooded with panic, heat kissing my bare skin. My markings.

But his eyes are closed. I know that, because opening them would seal his fate. The fabric falls to our feet, and any doubt falls with it. All that’s left is this blazing desire that’s growing by the second.

His hesitance is gone too. I know that for certain when he roughly pulls down the fabric band I wear around my chest—and palms my breast.

Fire explodes behind my eyelids, nerves tightening and effervescing.

Fuck.

We both inhale sharply at the same time. I don’t even try to pretend it doesn’t feel good, and when he drags his thumb over my nipple, I moan, the sound echoing through this tunnel. Raker growls in response, then does it again. He makes circles, kneading, as if trying to make me unravel just by this alone.

It fucking feels like I could. My thighs are clenched tight against this growing heat, and he can tell. I know, because his other hand slides down my side, until his thumb hooks the waist of my pants and underwear.

I don’t think I’m breathing.

He makes a low sound of need as he feels the material, a scrap of silk from the castle’s wardrobe. Then, in a desperate flash, he pulls them both down my hip. Heat floods through me in a fiery wave as he strokes the sensitive skin there with his knuckle, back and forth, so close to where I need him, and he seems a second away from taking it all off, maybe just ripping the fabric to shreds, and I want him to. I want him to give me everything I’ve never experienced right against this wall.

Just when I think he might, he lets go of the band of my pants.

Then, before I can feel a hint of disappointment, he curls his hands beneath my ass, and lifts me to his height, holding me up like I weigh absolutely nothing, and—

He’s right there. For the first time, we’re level, and I can hear his breaths coming out hot and labored beneath that mask. Now more than ever, I’m tempted to open my eyes, pull that silver layer away, and see everything he hides beneath, but that’s something he’ll have to show me himself. I don’t know what I’m doing, just that I need to be as close to him as he’ll allow.

So, heart racing, blood pounding, I lean forward blindly—

And press my lips against the cold metal.

Harlan Raker has single-handedly slayed entire battalions. He’s the greatest warrior in Stormside’s existence. But that one move makes him shiver.

Our lips are so close, separated by just a thin sheet of silver. I need to feel him. My fingers dive into his hood, and he lets me, and they rake through hair and—

It’s soft. His hair is so soft, and not too long, and he groans as I run my hands through it, the sound rumbling beneath my lips, and I wish he wasn’t wearing a mask, I wish he wasn’t wearing armor, because I need him.

It seems like he needs me too. Hands still curled under my ass, he pins my hips to his, and I suck in a sharp breath. Closer. I want us closer. I wrap my arms around his neck, crushing my lips to his mask harder and then my bare chest is pressed against his cold armor, in complete contrast to the roaring flames behind me. I’ve almost forgotten about this demon crafted of towering fire, trying to get us to open our eyes, but I don’t feel afraid, not at all. There isn’t room for anything else, beyond knee-buckling want.