Page 122 of Riv's Sanctuary

“Why did you make this for me?” she asked.

His eyes met hers for a second before refocusing on his task of feeding her. “You hurt yourself.”

Lauren huffed out a small laugh through her nose. “It almost sounds like you care.”

Riv glanced at her again, giving her the last scoop. “I shouldn’t.”

That wasn’t a no. That was a yes. Yes, he cared.

He put the spoon in the bowl and leaned forward, his index finger brushing against the corner of her lips as he removed a droplet of soup there.

It was such a sudden, unexpected movement that her breath hitched in her throat.

He must have caught himself then, because his finger froze by the corner of her lips.

His gaze was heated when he finally looked at her.

“I apologize,” he finally said.

Two more words she hadn’t expected.

“Apologize for what?” Her voice was almost a whisper and his gaze fell to her lips as she spoke.

“You’ve been overworked.”

A small, nervous chuckle huffed through her nose this time. “Hardly. I’m just not used to working with my hands. Back where I’m from, work consisted of sitting on my ass around a desk and clacking at keys on the computer. It wasn’t…” She glanced around the room. “It wasn’t anything like this.”

Riv dropped his finger from her cheek, his gaze moving with the same slow precision from her lips back to her eyes.

“Do you miss your planet?”

Lauren’s eyebrows rose a little. He’d never asked her about Earth before.

“I do.” She paused. “My planet has blue skies and green forests. It’s nothing like Hudo III with its pink sky and yellow-orange grass. I had friends, family, coworkers…life was okay.” She paused again. “I can never return there. I have to make a new life now.”

“Is that why you overworked? You didn’t need to.”

“I know,” she used his words. “But I’m a fool.”

Was it just her, or was the air around them suddenly now thick?

He was still leaning forward, close enough for her to make out the small pattern of bumps that dotted the bridge of his nose and rose over his eyebrows.

Still, she didn’t move away, and neither did he.

Tentatively, she outstretched her hand, and Riv’s gaze snapped to it immediately, mild alarm widening his eyes slightly as her hand moved forward and she traced a finger over the bumps on his nose.

He jerked a little, almost as if he wanted to pull away, but he didn’t. He looked down the bridge of his nose at her finger then lifted that same slightly alarmed gaze to her.

“I—”

“Don’t,” his whisper was hoarse, restrained.

Don’t touch him or don’t speak? She wasn’t sure.

The air around them was so thick now, she could hardly breathe and when she pulled her hand away, she saw his throat move in unison with hers.

Whatever was happening right now was dangerous.