Page 67 of Her Orc Protector

We broke apart, half-laughing, breathless. The lamplight cast a warm glow across his face, softening the angles. His eyes never left mine.

"You're sure about this?" he asked.

I smiled, running my fingers along the edge of his jaw. "I suggested it, remember?"

"Just checking."

His hands covered mine, helping with the knots. When his shirt came loose, I pushed it up, revealing the expanse of his chest—broad and muscled, marked here and there with the thin white lines of old scars. I traced one that curved along his ribs.

"Shadow beast," he explained, watching my face. "Got careless during patrol."

"And this one?" I touched another near his shoulder.

"Bar fight in Riverbend. Miner with a broken bottle."

"Did you win?"

His grin was wolfish. "What do you think?"

I laughed, the sound unfamiliar in this context—intimate, unguarded. It felt good. Right.

He tugged at the hem of my blouse. "May I?"

I nodded, lifting my arms as he drew the fabric over my head. The air was cool against my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms. I wore only my breastband now, and the thin linen of my skirt.

Uldrek's gaze traveled over me, appreciative but not greedy. His hands followed, warm and steady as they traced the curve of my waist, the swell of my hips. He pressed a kiss to my collarbone, then another to the hollow of my throat.

"You're beautiful," he murmured against my skin.

I felt myself tense slightly—an old reflex, long ingrained. Beautiful meant valuable. Valuable meant useful. Useful meant giving.

But Uldrek wasn't demanding anything. He was simply present, his touch gentle as he explored me, unhurried and attentive. This wasn't a performance or a duty. There was no rush to get somewhere, no sense of obligation hanging over us.

His fingers found the tie of my breastband, pausing there. "Is this all right?"

"Yes," I said, swallowing past a sudden tightness in my throat.

He unwound the linen slowly, letting it fall away. I resisted the urge to cover myself. My breasts were fuller now, marked with the pale silver streaks of pregnancy and nursing. Not the perfect, unmarked skin of the woman I'd once been.

But there was nothing in Uldrek's expression that suggested disappointment. Only reverence as he cupped one breast in his palm, his thumb brushing lightly over the nipple. I gasped at the sensation—sharper, more intense than I remembered.

"Good?" he asked.

"Yes," I breathed. "Just sensitive."

He nodded, adjusting his touch to something gentler—barely there, a whisper against my skin that sent a shiver through me.

His mouth replaced his hand, warm and wet. I arched into the contact, a soft sound escaping me. My fingers threaded through his hair, holding him to me as he moved to the other breast, giving it the same careful attention.

Heat pooled low in my belly, a slow-building warmth that spread through me like honey. I shifted beneath him, seeking more contact, wanting to feel him everywhere.

He kissed his way down my stomach, lingering at the soft curve below my navel—another mark of motherhood, skin stretched and never quite returned to what it was. I tensed again, but he didn't seem to mind or even notice the imperfection. He was too busy worshipping every inch of me, his hands spanning my waist as his mouth traveled lower.

When he reached the waistband of my skirt, I felt a different tension rise in me. This was familiar territory, but not in a good way. Memory flickered—Gavriel's hands, impatient. The silent expectation. The performance required.

I pushed the thought away. This wasn't then. This was now.

Uldrek looked up at me, his expression questioning. "Tell me what you want," he said, his voice low and serious.