Planet Athion: The Complete Series by Angel Lawson

53

Dimka

The hot wateron the ship is a delight and I take my time lathering my body and hair to rid myself of the funk from days of travel. I need a minute to decompress and work through the emotions of seeing—kissing—Mercy again. My body had reacted immediately to her. Something feral and untamed. I’d spent the time on the ship consumed with anger and fear. I wanted her back. Needed to see her myself and make sure the Master hadn’t harmed a fucking hair on her head.

But as we hoped, Damon had taken care of her. Good care. She looked content, comfortable, and he looked calmer than I’d ever seen him. Mercy had an effect on temperamental and lost men. She soothes us but it also makes me second-guess. Does she need another destructive, damaged male in her life? An Athion from the Southern Tip? A former slave carrying enough baggage and rage to consume a lifetime?

My emotions are as raw today as they were when she was taken.

I’m standing with a towel wrapped around my waist and I’ve just wiped the shaving gel from my face when there’s a knock on the door.

“Dimka, it’s Mercy.”

As if she needs to identify her angelic voice.

I open the door and her view begins at my chest and then roams downward, then back up. My body twitches in reaction.

“Hi,” she says. “Can I come in for a minute?”

“Of course.” I swing open the door and she ducks under my arm and enters.

Standing in the small room together she faces me, again with wide eyes. There’s heat in her expression and it brings an urgency to the pit of my stomach. “I’d forgotten how tall you are,” she says suddenly. “So…big.”

Her hand reaches out to me, touching my chest softly. My heart threatens to burst through my ribcage.

“Please tell me you’re okay,” I say to her. “Tell me he didn’t harm you on that ship. That,” I swallow, “that you weren’t touched.”

She looks up at me with big green eyes. “No one hurt me, Dimka. Damon got there in time and Amias had his eyes on me longer than I think I realized.”

“Thank Laird,” I mumble, half a prayer. I brush a tendril of red hair behind her ear and focus on the soft pink of her lips. “I was so scared. Angry and scared, the whole time you were away.”

“I’m here now.”

She is here. In my room. Standing before me like a gift from Laird himself. I’d told myself a million times as we hurtled through space that I’d give her some distance when we arrived. That I’d let her make sure this was what she wanted—that I was who she wanted, but she’s here with fingers splayed across my stomach.

My self-doubt is swallowed by my desire and I finally kiss the woman I’ve obsessed over for weeks and weeks. She reacts with passion, tongue gliding across my lips, body pressed against mine. Her fingers tug at the towel around my hips, dropping it to the ground.

Cool air meets the warmth of my arousal and a different fear washes over me as Mercy takes a step back to look at me. All of me.

“Confession,” she says with her eyes glued to my cocks, “those scare me. But I want them. I want you. All of you. Will you show me?”

My heart and body leap at her words. I close the distance between us, pressing my lengths against her, slipping my hands into her hair. The feel of our skin touching sends a tremor across my limbs. “We’ll go slow and I’ll show you the true pleasure only a man from the Southern Tip can give to you.”

I feel the shiver run through her body and soon we’re kissing again, undressing, touching. Her body feels small in my hands—fragile—but I know she’s tough. She’s been through so much and hasn’t given an inch.

“Can I touch you?” she asks, hands hovering over my erections.

“Yes. Please.” My body quakes when she runs her fingers down my shaft—first one at a time, then both together. I feel the sensation deep in my spine.

“Mercy,” I whisper, running my hands over her flesh. I pull her to the bed, wanting nothing more than to lie with this woman in the small, narrow space. We face one another, her hands exploring my body, my mouth drawn to her breasts. I smell the want coming off of her and dip my fingers between her legs. She writhes against me, panting against my chest. She hitches a leg over mine, wanting to get closer. I want the same.

“Do you trust me?” I ask.

“With my life and body,” she replies, lips sucking at my neck. It’s all the encouragement I need to drag her off the bed and position her palms flat on the mattress and stand behind her.

I give her a moment—a chance to tell me no, but she instead she glances over her shoulder and gives me an encouraging, ball-clenching kiss.