As he fantasized about the inevitable undressing, he couldn’t shake the nagging worry that his performance might disappoint. He wanted her so badly, he was seriously worried that he wouldn’t last longer than thirty seconds. Thirty seconds? That would be embarrassing even for a sprinter, let alone a lover. If he failed to impress, he dreaded the awkwardness that would surely follow. The sudden shift from anticipation to anxiety cast a gloomy shadow over his thoughts, as he stared at his boots and waited for her to reemerge from the bathroom.

She wasn’t stalling, was she?

He stole a glance at the door. Should he undress? His mind raced with absurd scenarios of her reaction to his naked form, from polite dismay to outright horror, leaving him to ponder the existential crisis of whether to hide behind a curtain or face the music stark naked. Deciding to maintain his modesty, he opened a bottle of Saurian bourbon and poured himself a couple of fingers.

When she emerged, he was standing at the window.

He turned, and his breath caught in his throat. She wore the same robe from before, but seemed somehow even more enchanting in its enveloping folds. His heart skipped a beat as her eyes met his, shy and uncertain of his approval. Time seemed to stand still as he stared, utterly spellbound.

Setting aside his drink, he moved toward her with deliberate steps. As he drew near, she tensed, her teeth worrying at her lower lip in anticipation. His hand traced a delicate path along her shoulder, a silent reassurance of his presence by her side. As she tilted her head upwards, their eyes locked in a silent exchange. Gently, as though she were a porcelain doll, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Despite the intensity of his desire, he was still worried about frightening her.

She responded to his kiss with a hint of hesitation, her lips yielding ever so slightly. As they separated, she retreated, lowering herself onto her heels and averting her gaze. “I’m not good at this.”

With tender resolve, he touched her chin, urging her to meet his gaze once more. “We’re together,” he reassured her. “And that’s all that matters.”

Her smile was a flicker of warmth in the dimly lit room. With delicate fingers, she undid the first button of his shirt, each movement a testament to her trust in him. He’d shed his jacket and weapons, but that still left a lot of buckles and snaps. Watching her attempt to figure them out, he couldn’t help but find her unfamiliarity with men’s clothes endearing.

It was an unfamiliar sensation, being with someone so uncertain. What struck him the most was his own sense of inexperience, a realization that he’d never been with a woman he truly cared for until this moment. Previous encounters had been fleeting, with women he’d met in bars or paid. But tonight was different; he and Udit were navigating this uncharted space together, their shared vulnerability forging a unique connection between them.

She slid his shirt over his shoulders, her lips planting kisses along his chest. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation. Her fingers worked his belt buckle, next, with delicate precision; before he knew it, his pants pooled at his feet. Then, meeting his gaze, she let her robe cascade to the floor in a whisper of fabric. Her skin was like polished marble, lit from within by an inner glow. Every curve seemed meticulously sculpted, her proportions nothing short of perfection. As he beheld her, fully, for the first time, the only word that came to his mind was perfect.

Rising up on her tiptoes once more, her lips sought his in a fervent kiss as their bodies melded together. Her skin, soft and inviting, radiated warmth against his as he pulled her into a passionate embrace. The faintest breath of his cologne mingled with her scent, creating an intoxicating blend that enveloped them both in a veil of desire. Holding her tightly, he savored the sensation of her hair entwined between his fingers and the curve of her back beneath his touch.

“I’m scared,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.

His eyes searched hers. “Because I’m an assassin?”

She shook her head slightly, the merest negation. “Because you’re a man.”

He brushed her hair back from her face. “We can wait.”

“No,” she breathed, her resolve firm. “I want this.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Reaching out, his fingers closed around hers, their connection a lifeline in the tempest of their shared truth. Their lips met once more, hesitation gone, binding them together into one. The allure of her presence consumed him entirely, overpowering any semblance of rational thought with an overwhelming surge of need. Every logical notion paled in comparison to the primal urge to possess her, to revel in the intoxicating essence of her being. With a swift and decisive movement, he scooped her up into his arms, his steps purposeful as he carried her toward the waiting bed.

As he laid her down, her grip on his neck tightened, and then he was on top of her. Their union, from that point, was an onslaught of desire—an unstoppable force that consumed them both in a whirlwind of passion. His touch roamed her body with a fervor born of primal desperation, every caress a testament to his craving. Yet, amidst the frenzy, he sensed her reciprocal eagerness, her own urgency mirrored in the depths of her gaze and the hitch in her breath.

Striving to temper his fervent advance, he tried to gauge her reactions, though the intensity of their connection made restraint a futile endeavor. Her responses, however, offered silent consent; her darkened eyes and ragged breaths signaled her surrender to the moment. As his hand ventured between her thighs, he found her ablaze with heat and desire, her arousal a tangible affirmation of their mutual need. With each stroke, each tender caress, her responses fueled his own ardor.

In a bold display of passion, she seized him firmly, guiding him into her with a fervent determination that banished all traces of hesitation. The timid innocence of before had yielded to a raw hunger, transforming her into a creature of unbridled desire. It was a revelation, an awakening that eclipsed all previous experiences, leaving him awestruck in its wake.

As their bodies joined, she ensnared him with her embrace, her nails tracing fiery trails down his back, igniting a blaze of ecstasy that threatened to consume them both. The sensation of her small frame wrapped around him, perfectly attuned to his own, sent waves of pleasure coursing through his veins, each thrust a testament to their undeniable connection. Lost in the throes of passion, time became a distant memory as they surrendered to the primal rhythm of their bodies, each moment a crescendo of euphoria building towards an inevitable climax. And when it finally arrived, it was a release unlike any other, a torrent of sensation that engulfed them both.

As the echoes of their passion faded, he held her close, mindful of her delicate frame even in the aftermath of their shared bliss. And as they lay intertwined, he knew that he’d found his truest refuge. His heart belonged to her, and would for the rest of his life.

Nestling closer to him, she savored the lingering sensations. “That was wonderful.”

Although tempted to inquire about the extent of her delight, he refrained. “Yes.”

A flicker of shyness danced across her features. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

He kissed her forehead. “Neither did I.”

Encouraged by his admission, she shifted so that she was on her stomach, her body half draped over his. As she traced her finger over his chest, following the intricate script adorning his skin, her smile deepened. With effortless grace, she translated it. “The death of what dies is the birth of what lives,” she recited, her words infused with a deep understanding of life’s cyclical nature.

He regarded her with a mixture of astonishment and admiration.

“Yes,” she affirmed, amused. “I can read and write three languages.”

Including, it seemed, the First Tongue. “So can I,” he replied.

She rested her head on his shoulder, as his arm slid around her. “There’s still one thing I don’t get,” she said. “If you’re supposed to be part of a secret organization, then how come you’re not…more secret? That quote, if I’m not mistaken, is from the founder of your order.”

His gaze went to the labrynthine network of fractures creeping across the ceiling. “Not everything about us is a secret. And some of us, like me, do live out in the open.”

She didn’t pursue this line of questioning, which was good. Yet, upon introspection, he found that he hadn’t been worried; he could relax around her, and be himself. “I have a question for you.”

With a light touch, she tapped his nose. “Yes?”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “Why did you follow me, into that warehouse?”

“I’d been waiting,” she explained. “Not specifically for you, but for someone like you. Dharun had made it clear that one of his brothers would come for him. He didn’t know who, but when I saw you—I didn’t recognize you but I did, if that makes sense. You moved with the precision of a trained soldier, like him. And that’s rare around here, as you’ve undoubtedly noticed.”

He nodded, acknowledging her observation. “But why defend him?”

“Not him,” she clarified. “More…the idea of him. All beings deserve an equal chance, at life.”

Looking into her eyes, he caressed her shoulder. “And am I what you expected?”

She pondered his question. “You’re a paradox,” she declared. “But the most captivating kind.”