I tried.
I tried to escape.
Like, actually. I wiggled out from under his arm with the grace of a limp shrimp and tiptoed across the room, only to realize three things in rapid succession:
I was still naked.My legs were having an existential crisis.Kael was already awake.
His voice slid down my spine like molten silk.
"Where are you going, little lamb?"
I froze.
Oh no.
Oh fuck no.
I turned slowly and yup.
There he was.
Half-reclined against the mountain of pillows, sheets slung scandalously low on his hips, chest bared to the gods and sinners alike, silver hair a tousled, sinful mess.
His eyes, half-lidded and dark with the memory of everything we did. Locked onto mine with laser intensity.
"Come back to bed."
I made a noise that might've been a squeak…or a dying bird.
Kael's lips curled into the kind of smirk that belonged in R-rated dreams with feverish delusions. He extended one hand lazily.
"You're still shaking. I'll hold you until you stop."
I didn't move.
Because my brain wasn't moving. Because I'd just been called a little lamb in a post-orgasmic voice by a man who rearranged my soul last night and now wanted round two cuddles.
"System, I need an escape route."
"You should've thought about that before you moaned his name with the intensity of a dying martyr."
"System–"
"Oh look, he's getting out of bed."
I looked and I regretted looking.
Muscles. So many muscles.
Every motion was unfair. He was a damn walking thirst trap with bedhead and bite marks that he wore like a trophy.
And he was coming towards me.
I backed into the wall, which was great because yay, support!
Until he caged me in with one arm beside my head.
"Don't run from me," he murmured, voice rough and full of sleep and something else.
His hand gently touched my waist, fingers brushing bare skin. I shivered.
Not from fear. Not even from cold.
But from how warm he looked. How soft his eyes were and how careful his touch became.
"Are you regretting it?"
"No." (Shit… I answered too fast.)
I bit my lip.
He smiled. Slowly. Like I'd just given him the sun.
"Good."
Then he bent forward and kissed me.
Not like last night.
No heat. No fire.
Just a quiet press of lips. Slow. Meaningful. Unbelievably soft.
His hand cradled my face like I was made of breakable porcelain.
And I hated how much I melted into it.
I gasped when he kissed the corner of my mouth. My jaw. Then my neck.
"Stop," I whispered.
"You don't want me to."
"I… I do." (Spoiler: I did not.)
His nose brushed against mine. "You're flushed."
"I'm always flushed," I mumbled.
"You weren't, until I touched you like this."
My knees buckled and I looked at him incredulously. He caught me.
Effortlessly of course. Because gravity doesn't apply to men like him.
He carried me again, back to the bed and gently lowered me onto the sheets. Pulling the covers up and tucking me in with all the tenderness of a lover, not a captor.
He laid beside me.
Arms wrapping around my middle.
Chin nudging into my shoulder.
And this time, when I let him hold me–
…I didn't fight it.
"You still smell like me," he murmured.
I turned red.
"And I like it."
I turned purple.
"Your core temperature is elevated," the system whispered.
"Should I initiate Fire Safety Protocols?"
"System, shut the hell up."
"Love is in the air~"
"SYSTEM."