Page 65 of Starborn Husbands

I don’t think he’ll do it, but then he slides out of his jacket and unlaces his trousers. I sit up and pretend to yawn, but it’s just an excuse to take off my shirt. I play with the hem of his. “Your turn.”

He pauses, and I know that’s uncertainty I see in his eyes. Right. We’re not actually getting married anymore now that there’s an out. He’s saving his body for someone else.

“Go on,” he says. “Take it off me.”

Shocked to death, I let my hands move of their own accord before he changes his mind, and when he’s in nothing but his skivvies, I pull him to stand between my legs so I can marvel at him. Emboldened, I run a hand over his solid stomach.

“I don’t hate you anymore,” I admit, still tracing fingers over his God-like physique.

He smiles, slowly. “You only not-hate me for my body.”

His crotch is at eye level. “Please let me suck you.”

“I thought you weren’t going to attempt molestation, hmm?” There’s a hitch in his breathing. Bet he’s hard. Bet he’d cave.

“I’m a lying liar who lies.Please. It won’t count as sex.”

He pulls the covers back further. “Get under,” he says. “You need rest, Starfleet.”

Groaning, I obey him. I’m rewarded with something almost as good as sucking his dick—all of his manliness pressed against me. We haven’t had this much naked parts of us touching yet. I get to inhale him and squeeze his wide torso.

I don’t want things to change when we “break up”. Are things going to change? Probably.

“Sleep, Treyu,” he says inthatvoice, and I want to eat it up. I also can’t resist obeying it.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmur without meaning to.

His hips jolt, pressing his hardness into my stomach. Huh. Liked that, did he? I consider provoking him more—he wouldn’t spank a guy recovering from a beating, least, I’m pretty sure—but I suppose he deserves a little reprieve from the Treyu Circus.

And I am fucking tired.

I close my eyes.

* * *

Gem and I make a meal. We serve our men. We don’t drink spirits, but we do drink Gem’s magic punch. I stay close to Zhang because I need to. Things feel awful even though they should feel good. I try to tell myself it’s because Atlanta’s leaving forever. That stings, and I’m gonna miss the fuck out of him, but it’s not why my chest is hollow.

We don’t stay long so we can make the trek back to the road and catch the Starline back to the palace. While I watch the city lights fly by, I flick my eyes at him now and then. He’s far, far away from me.

“What’s on your mind, Sir?”

He pushes the long pieces of my hair off my face, revealing my undercut. “Nothing important.”

We make it back for curfew knowing it’s our last night like this. “You sure you don’t want to?—”

“No. I’ll fuck my husband for the first time or nobody.”

“Okay. I’ll try to stay on my side of the bed tonight.” I have zero intentions of staying on my side of the bed tonight.

Though I do lay on “my side” for a little while, thinking. I don’t understand. Nothing makes sense. I didn’t want this. I have never wanted Zhang. I find him attractive, but who wouldn’t? That neither proves nor disproves anything.AmI pushing him away because of some deep-seated longing for him?

Ugh, that would be so fucking cliché, and I hate clichés maybe even more than insta-love.

I gaze at Zhang in the half-darkness with the three moons casting their glow from both windows at the perfect angle to outline his other half. His breathing gives him away—he’s not asleep either.

“Do you think I love you, deep down, Centaurus?”

He’s quiet for several heartbeats, long enough for anxiety to build and flood me with nerves. The answer is yes, isn’t it?