Page 39 of The Last Hunt

“Move, giant,” she says.

He chuckles and lets his hands fall, walking into her room. “You’re barely shorter than me.” He turns around and backs toward her bed, a teasing grin on his face.

“I’m well aware,” Maeve says, raising her brows.

He stops and Maeve almost bumps into him. He meets her eyes, his mouth inches from hers. His gaze drops to her lips and then drags back up. “You’re the perfect height,” he murmurs.

Maeve feels like her face is on fire. She nudges him toward her bed. “Sit so I can change your bandage.”

Just like the last two nights, Aethon sits on the edge of Maeve’s bed as she fetches the medkit. She sits down next to him and takes out a fresh bandage.

Aethon winces as she removes the tape and bandage from his neck. “How’s it looking?” he asks. His dark hair falls over his forehead, and he glances at her from the corner of his eye. He missed a spot shaving near his burn, and Maeve wants to run her finger over the coarse hair there, the texture somehow arousing to her.

Maeve examines the radiation burn. It’s still red, but it’s not as swollen and it’s no longer hot to the touch. “Better,” she says. She quickly smears antibacterial gel on the burn, and Aethon inhales sharply, his hand moving to squeeze her thigh.

Heat jumps to Maeve’s core at his touch and she licks her lips. “Almost done,” she says, her voice a little hoarse. She shifts closer to him and Aethon’s hand slides to her inner thigh. Maeve holds her breath as dark arousal floods her. She wants to pull his hand to her. She wants to feel those long fingers slip inside her. She clenches her teeth. Aethon’s eyes are scrunched closed in discomfort as she finishes putting his bandage on.

“Done,” she says.

Aethon sighs and squeezes her thigh. “Thanks.” He lets her go.

Maeve packs up the medkit quickly, trying to ignore how her whole body is buzzing.

Half an hour later, both of them are in bed. Maeve lies on her back, staring at the ceiling, her mind full of Aethon’s hand on her thigh. She hears him sigh and he turns over to face her, his eyes closed. Maeve grits her teeth. This is insane. Has it really been so long that she’s slept with someone that just his hand on her leg is making her desperate for him? No, it’s not that. It’s the fact that it was his hand on her.

“Goodnight,” Aethon murmurs.

Maeve closes her eyes, her fists tight at her sides. “Goodnight.”

Chapter 12

Midnight

Aethon

Aethon wakes suddenly. He glances over at the clock on Maeve’s bedside table. It’s midnight. He’d only been asleep for a couple of hours.

To his surprise and pleasure, Maeve is tucked against him. Her face is even with his and though in the dimness he can tell she’s asleep, she has a deathgrip on the front of his t-shirt. Aethon smiles. She murmurs something and flips back over. She pulls Aethon’s hand around to her front and tucks it underneath her shirt on her stomach. Her skin is so warm and soft, but he doesn’t move his hand. She pushes her ass back against him and Aethon grits his teeth, trying to prevent his body from reacting. Is she awake?

“Maeve?” he whispers.

“Touch me,” she murmurs.

“Touch you?” It was the same thing she had asked him on the escape pod four years ago. A jolt of anticipation runs down his spine and every concern he’s ever had about them being together flies out of his head.

Maeve grabs his wrist. “Aethon,” she says. “Please.”

He wishes he could see her face, but he suspects that not looking him in the eye is Maeve’s way of creating distance between them. He wants more. If he’s being honest, he wants all of her, but at this point, he’ll take whatever she wants to give. He’s been thinking about this for the past three days. Being in such close quarters with Maeve has been an exquisite torture. Her scent, her voice, her hair - the way she teases him, the sweet way she is with TAI - god, she’s irresistible. He’s been fantasizing about touching her, feeling her quake beneath him, kissing those sinfully full lips, watching her as she arches toward him, her nails digging into his back -

“You are awake, right?” he asks.

“I’m awake,” she confirms. “I just - need -” she stops.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. He’s seen how she’s been looking at him for the past three days too. She wants him. He doesn’t know if she’s had a decent night’s sleep since before the Keidar Belt. She probably needs a release.

“Please,” she murmurs in a voice that’s barely audible.

Aethon presses himself against her, his nose buried in her lavender scented hair. The darkness of the room makes him feel like they’re the only two people in the galaxy. The low vibration of the Archer’s engines is a comforting presence beneath them. He splays his hand across her stomach and she shivers. He traces light circles on her skin, reveling in how her breath hitches. “How do you want me to touch you?”