Page 96 of Heimlock

I don’t know if the energy to try exists anymore.

“You know …” she says slowly, drawing me away from my thoughts. “I’m pretty hungry.”

Relief has me smiling. “I can help with that.”

Her smile is slow. “I like my eggs scrambled.”

***

The morning moves slowly as I prepare the coffee and breakfast feast of eggs, pancakes, and sausage. She has the bare bones essentials of everything, but I’m going to need to do another supply run.

Who in the Hells doesn’t have any seasoning outside of pepper and salt?

Without a table, we sit on the floor. I’m careful to not comment on the lack of … basically everything.

We both keep the conversation light. Nothing about what’s occurred in the last two days is brought up. Instead, I tell her about my obsession with video games, Dragxi stories, and a one-night stand who tried to steal all of my silverware.

She shares about some of the women she’s rescued, and a few battles I hadn’t witnessed before. The look on her face when she finds out I’ve been watching her is priceless.

It’s as easy as it was that night we met. Without seduction on the table, the chemistry is still incredible. No games, no flirting — just … us.

After cleaning up breakfast, I help lay her back down in the bed. She’ll be there for the next couple of days while her body and the tonics heal the tear.

She has no television, so I pull out a deck of cards. We play some of our favorite card games. When we’re bored with that, I pull out my favorite thriller novel and read aloud while she lays there, watching me.

When she’s hungry, I feed her. When she needs help to ‌the bathroom, I assist. By the evening, when it’s time for a shower, we’re far more comfortable than we were the night before. It’s all still platonic, and true to my word, I keep everything clinical. Neither of us cries or trembles. There are also no heavy questions, as if we’ve silently agreed to let the intensity settle.

It never feels like enough time with her. I’ve always been driven to support those I care about, and she’s no exception. Because even though she’s made it clear a relationship isn’t possible, I want her to be happy and comfortable. I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give.

Falling asleep next to her is easier than the night before. And for the first time in years, a nightmare doesn’t wake me up.

***

The Speed Dating Event

This tension building between us is electric. The way Kyrielle watches me shoots a deep, desperate ache to my cock. Her mouth parts enough for me to see a pink wet tongue. When it flicks out to lick her lips again, I watch it with unabiding hunger. My adulthood has been filled with meaningless and occasionally exciting sexual endeavors.

But having that tongue tangling with mine is an immediate imperative.

“I’m going to kiss you, Kyrielle,” I rasp out, body trembling with need.

“Okay,” she whispers, looking just as absorbed in this chemistry as I am.

My lips brush against hers, tentative. They’re soft and wet from gloss. Sliding my free hand up her throat, I cup her jaw and lift her head a little more. A pliant offering for my exploration.

When our tongues brush, heat explodes in every crevice of my body. Instantly, I’m throbbing. Kyrielle lets out the tiniest of moans, the sound vibrating against my hand. It coaxes out a growl from me, possessive and demanding.

Nothing around us matters, especially when one of her hands comes to my thigh, riding higher and higher. Nails raking against my pants; when I deepen the kiss, they dig into my muscles. I’ve never hated wearing pants more than I do right now.

Kyrielle is the first to pull away, panting. My mouth follows her like a needy Hellshound desperate to continue the meal.

Letting out a soft chuckle, she murmurs, “Down, boy.”

With the violently painful hard-on between my thighs, I know that’s impossible. The only down I want to do is go down between her lush thighs. Her pale face flushes; those burning-ember eyes going wide. She looks like a Dragxi just slammed into her. In a way, one did. The thought widens my grin.

Bringing a hand between her bare thighs, I trail fingers as high as I dare. To my immense pleasure, they part just enough to make things worse for my desire.

“Give me the opportunity to worship you as the thirteenth goddess," I rasp.