General Malik Xett doesn’t have time for romance. His one and only concern is curtailing the power and influence of the ruthless Sarronti elite. Still, the human female working with him lingers in his mind and fuels his imagination.
Though Kara O’Leary has been attracted to Malik since they first met, she never dreamed he returned her feelings. One kiss ignites a hunger neither can deny, but the timing couldn’t be worse. Hostilities rapidly escalate and new threats are revealed. How can Malik and Kara bring freedom to the “world below” when all they can think about is each other?
Copyright © 2020 Cyndi Friberg
She stopped walking and faced him, her head tilted back. “I never said thank you. You minimized my suffering, and your mother healed the burns completely. If there is some way I can repay your kindness, please let me know.”
Acting purely on instinct, he said, “Promise you won’t be offended.” Then he pushed his fingers into her hair and covered her mouth with his.
She didn’t respond at first, clearly surprised by his impulse. But gradually her lips parted, and her breath mingled with his.
He tilted his head and fit his mouth more securely over hers. His fingers pushed deeper into her hair. He wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her snugly against his aching body. He’d dreamed about this, imagined it, ever since she walked into the war room in Outcast headquarters proud and confident.
Her arms wound around his back, and she pressed in even tighter. Like everything she’d done since they met, she kissed with focused skill and passion. She was so tiny, yet she seemed eager and uninhibited. He was tempted to pick her up, to better align their bodies, but decided not to risk it. They were alone at the moment, but that could change without warning. Instead, he just held her, thrilled with the warmth of her mouth against his and her soft body pressing into him.
But desire unfurled, spreading through his body like a fever. He instinctively advanced, pressing her back against the stone wall. He felt restless, ravenous for more of her taste. He touched her lips with the tip of his tongue, warning of his intention. Her tongue lightly returned the touch, inviting him inside.
He didn’t hesitate. Easing into her mouth, he groaned as her taste surrounded him spiking his desire. She was spicy/sweet perfection, instantly addictive. Their lips slid and pressed, repositioned then found a rhythm. He brushed her tongue with his, and she caressed him in return. The kiss became a silken, swirling dance, a sharing of breath and taste.
Someone hurried past, and Kara twisted away. “This isn’t the place,” she panted, looking around guiltily.
He raked a hand through his hair, sighing. “Of course. I apologize.”
She smoothed down her dress then started walking again. He fell in beside her. Neither spoke.
“So,” she said brightly when the tension became oppressive. “Are females often ‘offended’ when you kiss them?” She made a hooking motion with her fingers he didn’t understand.
He looked at her, confused by the question. “Why do you ask?”
“You told me not to be offended right before you kissed me,” she reminded, her smile faltering. “I’m not, by the way. Not at all.”