Page 29 of Origin (Deridia #13)

He required no insistence on her part. They had lain so close together before. In their clothes and with the knowledge they would not be partaking of anything more.

This was different. His blood raced with awareness of her. Of what she meant to him. Of what they might do together.

He kissed her. Leaning close. Slightly over. Which felt delicious because her skin met his, and he had to touch. He had to. First her throat, because that was familiar. Made her breath hitch, but her eyes would darken, and he never felt the worry she held for other matters. Would she protest to him climbing on top of her as she had when he pulled her to his lap?

He hoped not. Wanted to situate himself between her thighs. Hover over her. Then not hover. Just taste what it would be like to cover her like a blanket. To hold her to him and rest his head between her breasts and just... be.

There were too many wants pushing at him. An insistence in his nethers to get rid of the last of their clothing and bring those parts together. His fingers twitched to move. To learn every bit and curve of her body. To commit it all to memory so he could picture them even in the dark.

As if...

As if this would be the only time.

The thought was a sobering one. Stilled his kisses and made her cup his cheek, smoothing her thumb over his lower lip. “You all right?” she asked, just as breathless as he felt.

“I want this for always,” he blurted out. “I want you for always. And I don’t mean to be greedy, but...” Words failed, because he did not know how to say what he was really asking was if this was his only chance to prove to her he could be good at this. Because he wasn’t sure, didn’t know, not for certain. And it paralysed him. The wondering. The worry of it.

She kissed him again. Deep and full. But she pulled back just as quickly. Using the last of the light to stare into his eyes and will him to believe her. “You have me,” she promised him. “And I have you. And this will be fun.”

It was as much a reassurance for him as it was for herself. He knew that. And he was temporarily stunned by the flood of warmth he felt for her. How uncertain she could be in one moment. How profoundly sure of herself in another. Push and pull. A different sort of dance, but one they were learning together.

Her thumb moved along his cheekbone. “Aren’t you having fun?”

He wasn’t certain that was the word. It wasn’t big enough. But it would require thinking to come up with another one, and she’d forbidden that, for the moment.

He leaned forward. Kissed her cheek. Then the hollow of her throat.

Felt her swallow when he moved down further. A strange sort of wriggle that he was certain was not particularly flattering, but she did not seem to mind. Not when he placed a kiss to the spot between her breasts. Felt her breath catch. Felt her shiver.

“Oh yes,” he agreed. “Lots of fun.”

And it was an odd thing, to smile between kisses. To have to school his mouth to do as he wished. To kiss every curve that seemed to worry her. Kiss every bit of dimpled flesh that was apparently such a bother.

He was on fire. Or maybe it was just his blood. He didn’t know any longer. But she was warmth and delight, and he was more than relieved when she was the one to grasp for his hand. To bring to her smalls. To urge him to remove them as she fumbled with his.

It would have been more efficient to each attend their own. He knew that in a vague corner of his mind. But he liked the intimacy of this. To now that she wanted him naked. That he had permission to make her so as well. He hated this cupboard. Hated that he couldn’t get as low as he wanted. To kiss down to her navel, without the need to be off the cot as he did it.

There would be a room soon. A proper one. And he could kiss her all over, and he needn’t worry that this was the only time. He smoothed his palms over her sides, down her hips. She lifted them to accommodate, but he paused before they were fully off.

She looked worried. Turned her head when he caught her looking.

“That’s a strange expression for one having fun,” he murmured, letting his thumb smooth against unexplored skin.

“I am,” she assured him. He hummed. Let his thumb delve further. Which probably wasn’t what she intended. A quick removal and more distracting kisses. And that should have been all right, shouldn’t it? But he wanted more of her. Wanted her confidence and her every faculty accounted for. Wanted her so sure of him, of his commitment...

No, not just that.

He wanted her to know how deep his love for her went that she couldn’t doubt him.

“Does it bother you when I touch here?” he asked, smoothing his palm against her middle. Her waist.

Her breath caught. “We don’t need to talk about this now.”

He hummed. Tugged her smalls down a little further. Not enough. Not to unwrap her when she was vulnerable. “Don’t we? Because I love every bit of you,” he murmured, leaning down as best he could to press a kiss wherever she seemed nervous. Where her waist curved but didn’t nip. Where hips flared but dipped instead of flaring round.

Beautiful.

His.

“You haven’t seen me yet,” he gestured to his own small which he felt hanging strangely. Tugged down too far on one side, caught on his erection on the other. “What if I’ve got some strangeness to me? You going to change your mind about me?”

She huffed out a breath and glared at the ceiling. “You’re beautiful,” she retorted, and it was a retort because there was no denying that she evidently found that a terribly frustrating fact. “And you’ll be perfect, and I’m...”

He moved upward. Forgot his game with her smalls. “You’re Hana,” he agreed, cutting off whatever deprecating word she had chosen. “And you love me. And I love you. I wouldn’t have you any other way than just as you are.”

Her eyes glimmered. Her lip wobbled. “Really?”

He shook his head. “Stubborn woman,” he chided. Kissed her on the mouth again because she needed it. He needed it. “How long will it take you to believe me?”

Hana blew out a breath. “I don’t know. Eight times? Twelve?”

He snorted. “All right. Then this is the twelfth.” She opened her mouth, likely to tell him it didn’t work that way. “Our first was awful. I said all the wrong things.” Back down he went. The curve of her jaw. A kiss to the bone of her clavicle. This time he ignored the hollow between her breasts and paid attention to the left. Smoothed his tongue against the flat of her nipple. Felt her jerk. Squirm. Choke on a little gasp because they were meant to be quiet. It must have been the shock of it more than the sensation, because he’d scarcely done anything at all.

But he wanted her to do it again. “We were better the second,” he continued. Applied a soft suction to that nipple and was rewarded with her hand coming to his shoulder. Then down to his arm. Gripping lightly. Not stopping him, but present. “I learned how to keep quiet, and you decided maybe I wasn’t lying to you about how much I like this body of yours.”

“Ellion,” she murmured, and he shook his head, giving her breast a longer kiss. She didn’t finish her comment, and maybe that was for the best. He didn’t want her arguments. Wanted her, thinking of nothing but his kisses.

“Now the third, that was a memorable one.” Her other breast looked awfully neglected, so he brought his hand up to meet it. Smoothing over her silken skin. Over the red marks that were fading now that she was free of her wretched bindings. They’d need to talk about that. He’d forbid her nothing, but surely it wasn’t healthy to sleep like that. “Guards came in. Right at the finish. And I had to choose between getting that sweet gasp out of you or opening the cupboard. Made the choice for me when they pushed it open and stuck a beady eye in. Didn’t much like them looking at you, so I tucked you under the covers right quick and glared at them.”

“Ellion,” she said again, and this time there was a smile in her voice.

“We knew better by the fourth.” His breath was warm against her nipple. It tightened and pulled, and he rubbed his lower lip against it. Too tempting, by far. “Waited until after their check to get started. That one was in your bed, because you said it wasn’t fair that mine had all the memories in it.”

A few kisses beneath her breast itself. Which made her squirm as if it tickled, and that was amusing in its own way, but not his aim. He placed a kiss just below, trespassing to the spots she was so nervous about. But she didn’t stiffen. Just... waited.

“Our fifth I convinced you to slip into the shower with me. Which didn’t work out so well because it’s timed for one rather than for two, and especially not when I got distracted giving you a wash and the water ran out and we were both still soapy. Which meant a rather awkward retreat to the next stall to rinse off.”

She was smiling. Her hand moved from his arm up to his hair. Settled. Then combed. Scraping nails gently across the back of his neck and it was going to drive him mad if she kept doing them. Make him forget his intentions and rear up to kiss her. To plunge inside of her.

Slow. Certain.

He took a breath to collect himself. Blew it out over her skin and watched it prickle. Watched her muscles tense. A strange thing, for it not to mean something bad. That she was distraught, or huddled to defend against a blow. Just ready for more. Of him.

“Sixth was when we were tucked back here. All bothered by the shower. Quick and easy because we were both ready for it. Your hair was wet. It soaked my bedding, and you made me sleep in your cot with you because you didn’t want me to catch a sickness sleeping in wet cloth.”

She snorted. Brought her hand around his jaw. Cupped his cheek. Looked at him with the love he so desperately craved. Another kiss, lower still. Between breast and navel. Soft and pliant beneath his lips. A hand dared to go back to her smalls. To tuck beneath and rub circles on her hip. Reminding her of his destination, but letting her grow comfortable.

“We started framing for the apartment before the seventh. And I thought I was over the soreness, but I was wrong. Hauling will do that to you, I suppose. And I didn’t say anything, so you didn’t push me into two showers, and I didn’t get a massage to keep the hurt away. So I was lying there, trying to sleep but couldn’t because it hurt, and you thought I was cross and tiptoed over to make it up to me. Whatever it was. Climbed right on top and I didn’t even get a chance to tell you what the trouble was. But you were glorious, taking charge like that. Doing what you liked and knowing what I liked.”

His thumb slipped past her hip. Took the fabric with it. Pushed downward. Coaxed downward. To meet the other side that had already slipped over her flank. It would be easier if he’d just sit up and take them off properly. Look his fill and delight in the whole of her.

But he didn’t want to be accused of staring. To lose what precious ground he’d gained. So instead, he continued to lean over her. To smooth his lips down her hip where the fabric had pinched and reddened. Down the curve of her thigh. He had to retreat off the cot to continue his pursuits, but that was all right. He smoothed them off her, let himself only sip at the sights of her so she could not grow anxious. The small of her ankle. The arch of her foot.

Pressing against his chest as she giggled when at last they were off of her.

“You laughing at me, boss?” he asked, and he couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice.

“Never imagined you were a foot man,” she teased, rubbing that foot against his chest in a way that shouldn’t feel nearly as good as it did.

He grabbed at it, his thumb moving along her arch, until she had to swallow that laughter behind her hand lest it grow loud and boisterous.

Quiet. Had to be quiet.

Which was easy enough when he could kiss his way back upward. One to the top of her impudent foot, and if she giggled, that was all right. Amusement could grow to fondness, and he wanted plenty of that from her. “Eight—and you were warming to me greatly by the eighth, I’ll have you know. Got the hole fixed up in the office. Not all the way, because Armen says to keep parts of it undone so long as the guards will let us. But we got the siding on well enough to keep the lookers out.”

“I’m not being with you in the office,” Hana declared, but her breath caught because he was kissing the back of her knee, and she must be sensitive there to make her pause so.

“Too late,” he declared, but tucked that away for later. He was glad she could speak her mind. Decide what she liked and what she didn’t. Didn’t feel like she had to do just anything because he suggested it. “We were on the floor between the desk and the new wall, and I locked the door but I didn’t tell you, although you screeched in my ear about it when I undid it after.”

“Course I did,” Hana declared, even more breathless as he returned to the cot. Pushed her legs apart, so he’d have a better place to sit. Not all the way, but enough. Ran his hands up her thighs and waited when he reached her hips. Marvelling at the feel of her. How good she felt in his hands.

“Cross for two days after that,” he mused, having to take a moment to compose himself when he dared a look between her legs. He didn’t think he could conjure anything as inviting as that.

Why did she have to pick twelve?

But he’d started, and he’d finish, but she’d be the one to regret aiming so high.

He didn’t touch. Not right away. Moved his hands from her hips up her sides. Followed by leaning his body over hers. Nuzzling against her cheek. Letting her feel some of his weight against her. “Ninth, I was the one to creep over to your bed. Tell you I was sorry. That I wouldn’t do it again, not without you knowing. Told me a whole lot about shared risk, and that you’d forgive me, but that you were in no mood, so I should scoot on over to my own bed.” He kissed her throat. Her mouth, just the once, because he missed it. Loved his explorations, but there was nothing quite like kissing. Being kissed.

“Tenth...” he started, but Hana gave his shoulder a tap.

“No, finish ninth. You went back to you own bed. Me putting you off doesn’t count as an encounter.”

He brought his hand back to her breast, giving it a languid squeeze. Which stilled her protestations, if not her body. She was beginning to rock slightly. Which pushed her against him where he wanted her most, and it stole some of his concentration.

Or was that the point?

“I went back to my bed,” he continued, his voice hoarse, his breath too short. She was winning, and he shouldn’t have placed himself in this position so soon. He eased back, sliding her parts away from his so he could think.

Smoothed his hand back around her hip and delved beneath.

Nothing hurried. No surprises.

Just a brush at first, to get used to him. But he couldn’t resist for long, not when she was so warm . Warm and slick, inviting him inward. To test her readiness, to gently penetrate her opening. “I woke you up slow. Because I couldn’t sleep, and I was sorry, and you were cross. Just a few kisses, and I didn’t have any expectations. Honest, I didn’t.” He had to stop, to take a breath because she gripped his finger so sweetly he was nearly lost by it. “And you were the one to reach for me. To pull me into your bed and remind you I was forgiven.”

She made a little whimper that ended in a gasp as he moved. Found her hidden places and made a languid rub inside.

Nearly forgot himself when her neck tensed as she threw her head back, pushing downward and looking momentarily like it pained her. It made him retreat, uncertain if he was doing this right. But her hand was there. Stilling him. Keeping him close. Bringing him back where he had been.

“What was our tenth?” she asked, her voice deeper. Unlike how he’d ever heard her.

Made him want to forget the rest of it and just focus on the movement of his fingers, the palm of his hand. The kisses he gave her while he tried to focus.

She made it worse when her other hand delved. Pushed at the fabric covering him. Fumbling, feeble attempts that left her frustrated. Left her ignoring it altogether as she rubbed against him from the outside.

He felt too sensitive already, and it wasn’t even skin against skin.

It was the intention that was almost his undoing. That she was grasping for him, wanting him. It wasn’t enough that he was exploring her; she wanted him in return, and he had to kiss her. Had while he slipped another finger to meet the first, while he rubbed and sought and felt her cry out against his mouth.

Because they had to be quiet. And she didn’t remember that.

Which meant he must be doing something right. And wrong. Because she’d asked him a question, and he’d started this game, and he meant to finish it.

“I was hungry,” he breathed into her ear. As he was now, but for entirely different reasons. “Long day, and they burned supper, and I convinced you to sneak into the kitchen with me. Which you said was ridiculous, because they’d have everything put away under a lock and no, you didn’t have the key. But you went with me anyway, and you were right, because of course you were.”

She hummed, her eyes closed. She liked being right, even in his fantasies.

“And you looked so smug, even while I was hungry, and so I picked you up and I put you on one of those tables.” He pressed more firmly on the spot that made her twitch most, and he was rewarded with another of her moans. Another kiss to muffle it. Another whispered word in her ear that she really did have to keep quiet, or did she want for him to have to stop?

Another attempt to grasp him through his smalls, and he swallowed. Nuzzled against her cheek. “I laid you on that table, and I had my way with you right there.”

A gasp, and she gave him a look, because that was another certainty it would never happen, not when anyone might walk in, and that was all right. It was enough for it to live in their minds together. This thing that never happened, but lived on because this was a memory, too. “I let you keep your clothes, because I am a gentleman and I wanted you to be comfortable. But I plucked them open all the way down. And I kissed until I reached just here.” Another languid stroke, a curl of his fingers, and something near to a sob came from her throat. “You didn’t have much patience for it, by then. Pulled me back, and you were the one to go for my trousers, and the table shook as I took you.” She made to say something, but it was choked and she hummed instead. A sigh. An encouragement. “You made us wash it after.”

Her breasts jiggled, and that was enough to capture his attention, and belatedly he realised she was laughing.

Even if it was at his expense, he liked it. Liked that they needn’t be serious as they loved. And that’s what this was. Didn’t know if he’d experienced that before. Didn’t much care.

Because he had this now. Had her. Was in her.

And it was rapidly becoming his favourite place to be.

And he wanted the rest of it. To clutch her to him. To feel her hands against his back as she pulled him closer. To have it be real, not a slew of fiction.

“The eleventh was your idea. You found a bed in the storage room, and I reminded you it wasn’t ours, but you wanted to use it, anyway. Said you’d brought a sheet and everything, and I should be flattered because you’d planned it. Which I was, but I gave you a hard time about it first.” She was growing tighter around him, her eyes closed, her muscles straining. Which was a good thing, wasn’t it? It seemed a good thing.

Her hand abandoned its attempts to explore him, instead curling around the bedclothes. “And we had a lock with a door. And it was dark in there. Too dark, really. But it meant we didn’t have to be careful. And you were greedy, and we stayed up much too late. Doing this. Over and over.” She shuddered, her mouth open, although she made no sound.

He withdrew his hand, half-expecting her to grab it back again. But she didn’t. Just panted, and let her eyes drift open. “Can I...” he started, but she was opening her arms. To let him look his fill of her. Let him get up enough to shed his smalls and then wrapped herself about him.

“I want it to be real,” she murmured into his ear as he settled over her. As she parted her legs and brought them about him. There was no need for more invitation. She was the one to reach down. To grasp him at the base and guide him into her. She was the one to groan and arch, while he was surrounded by warmth, by her . Stretching to accommodate him. Urging him to move as she dug in her heels to press him further inward.

“So bossy,” he murmured under his breath. Was rewarded with a grunt and the light smack of her hand against his shoulder. But she smoothed her palm over it in the next movement. Held him tight and whispered for him to please get moving, and he was lost.

Had to do as she bid him.

Had to move, and this was their first and their twelfth all at once, and she didn’t need to be afraid of it, and he didn’t need to worry he’d mess it up.

To move was bliss. To be still, to kiss and be kissed, was a delightful torment.

He didn’t know if it was instinct that drove him, or perhaps if he was proficient in this. He supposed it didn’t really matter, because he knew how to move over her. Knew how to listen. To not be so caught up in his desire that he forgot about hers.

A fuller stroke. A gentler retreat. Over and over. While he murmured how beautiful she was to him. That he loved her.

Until words failed him, because she was too warm about him, too tight as she found her own pleasures. And he was just a man.

And he spilled, abrupt and almost unwanted, because it meant this would end, if only for the moment.

She was gasping in his ear. There was a laugh in the middle of it, while she held the back of his head and kept him to her, didn’t let him roll off her to keep his weight from becoming burdensome.

“I told you it would be fun,” she gloated. No, that wasn’t right. He peeked at her from what room she allowed him. She glowed. Bright and contented, and he had to kiss her again. Because she was right. And did so love being right.

“Best I ever had,” he declared, then captured her mouth again, feeling her smile, feeling the remnants of her amusement, while trying desperately to stay joined with her for just a moment longer. It didn’t work. He slipped out, and that was a loss.

He wanted to do it again.

Or a part of him did. The physical part said he’d had a long day and a longer night, and he really must sleep now. She needn’t leave. He might even coax her into allowing him to use her breasts as a pillow.

“I don’t think that’s as flattering as you intended, given your condition.” She wasn’t cross. She was skimming her nails through the short hairs on the back of his head, down his neck. Over and over. And he really would fall asleep if she kept doing that, or was that her aim? They had things to do. Dress, for one. Because they certainly couldn’t fall asleep like this. What if something happened? Someone saw or took advantage or...

Ellion shrugged, because he was allowed to think again, but he found he didn’t want to. Nothing dreadful had happened because they indulged. There had been no great tragedy. Just her and him and parts that fit perfectly together, and he resented Armen’s insistence on how much work made up a full day because he really did want to stay awake and do it again.

Which wasn’t fair, not when he’d been the one to commission the project in the first place, but he only felt like being generous with Hana at the moment.

He placed a kiss wherever was nearest. Felt his cheek jostle as she made another soundless laugh. Near her nipple, but not quite. He could move his head. Get her worked up again. That would be fun.

“You all right?” he asked, because he really must make sure before he got up and make them dress. Hated the very idea of it. Did they need to wash again? Probably. Which made their plumber’s insistence on running water being added to the rooms far more reasonable than it had seemed before.

“I never want to move,” Hana declared, her fingers stilling briefly. “Does that answer your question?”

He hummed. Did make the effort to move just enough so he could kiss the nipple staring at him. Which drew a smile from her. “You’re my best, too,” she murmured. And it really did mean more, because she knew the competition. He did too, if only one. Only stories. So maybe it didn’t mean much at all.

“Maybe it’s just that we’re best together,” he mused, rubbing his lower lip over his new friend. He’d get better acquainted with the right next time. This left one was his particular favourite at the moment, but that didn’t mean the right didn’t have wonderful qualities of its own.

She stilled him with her hand gripping his hair, making him look up at her in question. “You trying to get me going again?”

Ellion sighed, which had the effect of blowing warm air across that tight nipple. Watched as she shook her head, not quite irritated. That wasn’t right. Exasperated? But also amused. “You’re tired,” she reminded him.

“And you’re going to be sore enough in the morning.”

Which was true, he relented with a grimace. Which meant moving. Sitting up. Being responsible.

All things he hated at the moment.

Hated too that she covered his new friends with her arm when she caught him staring too long, and he worried he’d offended her somehow. But her eyes were light and full of good humour, and he gave a sheepish smile in return.

“Still think I’m a foot man?” he asked, trying to remember what he’d done with his clothes. Reaching for hers instead and handing them to her, because that was more important if the guards came for a check.

She let her arm fall. Which really just was because she meant to pull her shirt over herself, but allowed him one last glimpse. He’d been looking for something, hadn’t he? “I might have been hasty in my pronouncement,” she declared primly. Which really was rather a feat as she scrabbled to dress. She didn’t reach for the binder, just pulled her shirt on. Then the trousers.

His trunk. Right.

Dressing. Offering to walk her to the lavatory before bed.

Climbing back into bed, full of the knowledge of that had passed between them. Needing to sleep, knowing he needed to sleep, and finding he only had an appetite for something else.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I knew we should have waited for our apartment,” he groused. “Then our cots would be next to each other, and we’d have a place to wash up, and I could have you naked for the morning.”

Hana snorted. Shook her head. “Speak for yourself. I think it was worth it.”

She got up. Dressed while he was still without, and that felt strangely intimate. Maybe even more so than what they’d just done together. “You going out like that?” she teased. “I thought we talked about that.”

He rolled his eyes, his heart too full in his chest. “No, boss.”

He dressed.

Kissed her before they opened up the cupboard to leave.

And couldn’t help but hold her hand as they went.