Chapter 433: Elara
She looks at me like I am ridiculous.
She would not understand.
Her arms are not bulky the way men's are. They are full of muscle all the same—dense, clean, the kind that flexes under my palm when she shifts her weight above me. I have always wanted to hold them like this. In the dreams I could never quite reach. Now they are here.
Warm. Real. Mine to touch.
I like that she's more manly than men. And when she's soft too, like a woman—breast against my chest, mouth gentle before it turns mean—it's something uniquely her. Not one or the other. Her.
I let my hands trail.
Over her chest. The tight pull of her nipples under what little is left between us. Down the ladder of her ribs. Around to the thick muscles of her back, the ones that bunch when she moves. I map her like I might lose the shape if I stop.
I look up.
She's watching me. Amused. That small crooked almost-smile she gets when she catches me wanting too openly.
"Don't," I warn.
