Page 16 of Zayrik (The Protectorate Warriors Alien Fated Mates #6)

THE SECOND SHE KISSED me, I was gone.

Lost to the taste of her, the soft sound she made when our mouths met, the way she felt finally, finally in my arms.

I lifted her, pinned her gently but completely to the nearest bulkhead, felt the way she arched into me like she was made to fit there. The metal was cold against my knuckles, but she was fire against my chest.

She wasn’t gentle.

Neither was I.

This was frustration. Want. Everything we hadn’t said—

Everything we couldn’t say—

Spilling out in heat and hands and mouths.

In the way her breath hitched when I traced her lower lip with my tongue.

In the desperate grip of her fingers on my shoulders.

Her hands found skin beneath my jacket, tracing muscle like she needed to memorize me. Like she was afraid this might be her only chance.

I let her.

Gods, I needed her to.

Needed to feel those clever fingers mapping every inch they could reach.

I slowed the kiss, just enough to take control.

Dragged my mouth across hers, slow and deliberate.

A claiming.

A promise.

She made a sound. Desperate. Breathless. Something between a whimper and my name. And then... I felt it.

She was trembling.

Not from fear.

From something worse.

Vulnerability.

Raw and real and terrifying.

And that’s what made me stop.

I pulled back. Just enough to see her face, to watch the play of emotions across features I’d memorized without meaning to.

Her lips were parted, kiss-swollen. Her eyes turned to liquid blue darkness.

She was shaking.

So was I.

Every instinct screaming to pull her closer, to claim her completely.

I ran my thumb over her cheek, rough skin against soft. Watched her lean into it, that small unconscious movement destroying what was left of my control.

“Want me to stop?” I whispered, the words raw in my throat.

She swallowed.

Didn’t answer.

But her fingers tightened in my shirt like she was afraid I’d pull away.

My thumb brushed her bottom lip, feeling her sharp intake of breath. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

Her fingers curled into my shirt, twisting the fabric. Just a moment of hesitation, then, soft as breath, “I can’t.”

I exhaled, something inside me snapping. Something primal and possessive that had been building since I first saw her.

“Good.”

Her breath caught, a small sound that shot straight through me.

And then, we were kissing again.

Slower this time. Deeper. Like we had all the time in the galaxy.

And she didn’t pull away.

She melted into me, trust in every soft sigh, every brush of her fingers against my skin.