Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 110600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
I did, too. My mind buzzes with what I learned from our encounter in the shower. I have ideas for ways to touch her the next time she allows it, and I now know her expression when she is lost in pleasure. I know what to look for. Each time we touch, it will be better than before.
But for now, Kim must sleep.
I guide her toward my bed, and when she gives a sleepy yawn and tugs me down with her, I go gratefully. I like that she curls against me, tucking herself against my side and immediately falling asleep. She trusts me, and as I hold her close, I vow that I want nothing more than to keep this trust.
We will go as slow as we need to.
It turns out that we must go even slower than I anticipated.
I wake up the next morning to Kim’s pained groan, and I immediately tense. “What is it?” I ask. “What is wrong?”
She adjusts the deep collar of my tunic, furtively pushing her sleep-bared breast back under the fabric, and gives me a pained look. “Everything is sore. Why is everything sore?”
I chuckle, realizing that yesterday’s workout was perhaps too effective. “It is from lactic acid buildup in your muscles. Come. Get up. I will rub you and you will be less sore when we practice again.”
Kim groans, wincing as she sits up in bed. “You’re kidding, right? You’re going to make me work out when I’m in this much pain?”
“That is why I am going to rub you. And it is a welcome soreness.”
“You might welcome it,” she grumbles, “But I don’t.”
“It means your body is learning.” I leap out of bed and offer her a hand. “Come. I will even make you breakfast.”
“I hate you,” Kim grumbles. “My sore ass hates you. My thighs hate you too. And my arms. And my back.” She takes my hand, though.
“You do not hate me,” I say, ignoring her grousing. “You will be thankful when you are able to defend yourself. And remember, I said I would not go easy on you.”
She just scowls in my direction, and it is adorable.
Kim’s movements through today’s practice are stiff, and I do feel cruel for putting her through her paces. Despite her initial complaints, though, she works hard and I am proud of how far she has come with such brief lessons. I help her shower and then rub muscle ointment onto her limbs to help ease some of the soreness. There is nothing sexual about today’s touches—I do not even try to kiss my pretty Kim, because it is more important that she learn to defend herself than it is for me to see to my own pleasure. She works on her book that afternoon while I see to my plants and my own practice, and we spend a pleasurable evening playing more Slapjack before heading to bed.
It is a good day. A quiet one, but a good one. I think of a future filled with such days—simple tasks around the house, pleasant joking with my mate, and just having the warmth of her presence at my side—and it fills me with pure joy.
When we go to bed that night, I press kisses into her hairline. “Tomorrow you will be less sore,” I promise.
Her hand goes to my chest. “More practice tomorrow?”
“Always.”
Kim licks her lips and traces a finger down my chest. “What if…I want to practice with the stun-cuffs again?”
My entire body twitches into awareness, and a low purr starts in my chest. “Then we will practice that, as well,” I murmur. “Perhaps this time you will use my mouth for your pleasure.”
She sucks in a little breath, as if she likes that idea. “Oh…yeah. Perhaps.”
Her hand slides lower on my chest, toward my navel, and my cock begins to rise.
A tiny, stuttering beep sounds from somewhere in the house.
Kim freezes. “What was that?”
“One of the crop bots is short on power,” I lie. “It is notifying me that it needs maintenance. I will see to it in the morning.”
“Oh, okay.” She leans in and presses a kiss to my chest. “Goodnight, Nassakth.”
It takes everything I have to remain relaxed next to her in the bed. I do not want her to worry. I stroke her hair as she falls asleep, trusting and sweet, curled against me. I do not sleep, though. I wait until Kim’s breathing evens out, and then I slowly extricate myself from our bed and dress.
I have lied to my mate again, it seems. It sits on me uneasily, because I do not like deceiving her, but she has had enough sorrow in her life. When I mated to her, I swore Kim would be safe from everything that would harm her, and I meant it. I go to my war room and tuck weapons into my belt, and then head out to my air-sled. I clip the breather to my nose, and all the scents of the world immediately fade.