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28. Sloane

Chapter 28

Sloane

Even in my wildest, fucked-up fantasies, my first kiss with Dexari would never have happened in the middle of a hot, humid kitchen. But as soon as his lips touch mine, everything around us fades away.

And I'm lost.

Lost in the pent-up passion released by his kiss, I melt against him. His lips, warm and demanding, ignite a fire within. My body, pressed flush against his firm chest, tingles with every point of contact. His sculpted muscles ripple beneath my fingertips as I explore the expanse of his broad shoulders.

Lost in the promise conveyed by his arms lifting me up, which sends a thrill down my spine. He holds me so tight I can hardly breathe, but I don't care. His strong hands span my waist, fingers digging into my flesh with a possessive urgency that makes me weak in the knees.

Lost in the way time seems to stand still as we immerse ourselves in each other. The heat of the kitchen is replaced by the inferno building between us. Every brush of his lips, every sweep of his tongue, every gentle nip of his teeth sends sparks of pleasure coursing through my body.

This kiss is more than just physical; it's a declaration, a claiming, a merging of two souls that have been searching for each other across the vastness of space and time.

I've officially crossed over into the abyss of ridiculous, romantic inner thoughts, and I smile against Dexari's lips while holding him tight.

Far too soon for my liking, he breaks away—and then I remember where we are. But before I even catch my breath, he scoops me into his arms, my hands going around his neck, and strides out of the kitchen while the staff cheers in the background.

It's like an alien reenactment of the ending scene from An Officer and a Gentleman .

Unexpected, thrilling, and sexy as hell.

"What are you doing, Dex? Put me down," I protest, although I don't really mean it. "You're still recovering!" My fingers instinctively tighten around his neck, betraying the seriousness of my demand.

He just grins, carrying me like I weigh nothing. "I am fine," he says, his voice low and husky. "And I am never letting you go."

I catch a glimpse of Mornah's knowing smile as we head toward the elevator. There's something undeniably hot about being in Dexari's arms, in the possessive way he holds me and the determined set of his jaw as he carries me…somewhere.

Hopefully a place that's more private than a crowded kitchen or a glass elevator.

The past few days have been a whirlwind of activity, a desperate attempt to keep my mind off the unconscious orc king who's somehow become the center of my world. Now that he's awake, now that he's here, carrying me off like some romance novel hero...I'm nervous.

We never finished the conversation we started in the forest. I know he believes we are fated mates, that I'm the one woman destined to have his children and rule by his side. But I have no idea how he feels about any of this, how he feels about me .

His sexual attraction for me is evident in his kiss—and the hard, spiked bar bumping against my ass as he holds me in his arms. And I can't deny I'm attracted to him as well. That kiss made me wet for him, made me ache with need and longing.

But, is that enough ?

"Where are you taking me?" I ask when the elevator door opens.

His answer sends a delicious shiver up my spine. "To my private quarters."

When we get there, he finally puts me down, and I look around at the surprisingly bland interior and sparse, utilitarian furnishings. Unlike the guest suite, the walls are bare, there's no sign of art or sculptures, and the furnishings, at least in the sitting room, are sparse and utilitarian at best. It's a far cry from the opulent chambers I expected.

"We definitely need to redecorate," I declare. "These quarters are not fit for a king. Where's all the gold and jewels? The fancy tapestries?"

Before I can elaborate on my interior design evaluation, Dexari's lips are on mine again. I lean in, my body responding instantly to his touch like we've been doing this for years. His hands move from my ribcage, just under my breasts, to my waist, and then to my hips.

His fingers tug at my pants, and— WHAT AM I DOING ?

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