My face heats and it’s all I can do not to grab the back of Tye’s shirt to keep him from leaving the room. The silence he leaves behind is deafening. Clearing my throat, I brush down my crumpled uniform and conjure the effort needed to look up at River’s face. He stands tall and straight, hands clasped behind his back. “You want to lie together?”

River nods curtly. “I only suggest it because it may help you control the magic you echo from me. Magic that may prove vital for protecting you this evening.”

I sit on the bed, my legs suddenly giving up on supporting me. “Right now? You want to couple right now?” I sound like a bloody parrot. In my defense, I’ve never discussed this in such transactional terms. I look at River, his broad shoulders and powerful arms making his beautiful chiseled face even more daunting for his hesitance. “With me?”

River runs a hand through his short, dark hair, a tell of his unease. “It was a rash idea. Forget I—”

“No, wait.” I hold up my hand, my mouth dry. The sudden tightness of my thighs alone betrays how much my body wants to lie with River—has longed for it for weeks. As for the rest of me, half of it wants to rip River’s cock off, but the other half . . . It wants to lie with River for reasons well beyond aiding my control of his magic. Except I know the male would bolt from the room if I uttered as much. If I told him the truth. “I think it’s a good idea. For the sake of safety. And experience. Tonight’s experience.”

River’s shoulders relax. “Yes. For that sake.” He steps toward me with his wide, calloused palm outstretched. “It would be a prudent thing for us both to do.”

I clench my jaw, swallowing the truth as deep as I can. I believe River loves me, but he isn’t in love with me. Not like he was with Daz. Stars, I’ve not met the female and the burrs of jealousy still cut me deep enough to bleed. For all this, River is offering me the one thing he can.

And if I secretly wish to extract more pleasure from it than River’s intent warrants, it’s only polite to keep that desire to myself.

I brace myself as the male reaches the bed where I’m sitting, his large body shifting the mattress as he sits gingerly on the edge. His gray eyes study me for several heartbeats, straying to where my hands clutch the bedspread to keep from clutching him instead.

The male sighs and reaches forward to brush a stray hair off my forehead, tracing the line from my brow to my cheek to my chin. When the pad of his thumb brushes over my lips, his rough calluses sending tingles of heat through me, I flinch with sudden want. With the need to hide how desperately I long to feel River inside me.

“Are you afraid?” River’s voice is a gentle rumble, his gray eyes flashing with that protective instinct that makes River who he is.

Yes, I’m very much afraid. But not of what he thinks I am.

“I . . . I know how it’s done,” I say, realizing the stupidity of the statement as soon as it exits my mouth. Between Shade and then Coal, there is very little question as to my knowledge of the deed’s mechanics.

River kneels on the floor in front of me, letting me look down at him instead of towering over my small form. His fresh, earthy scent fills the air between us. “We need not do this, Leralynn,” he says, a gravelly note to his voice. “And if we do, I will go slow. It will . . . I will do my best to ensure it doesn’t hurt. To prepare you.”

Prepare? Stars, I’m fairly certain that my underthings are damp already. Surely River can smell my arousal.

As if in confirmation, River’s eyes flick down to my thighs, then slide to the door through which Tye left moments ago. His jaw tightens. “You had other plans. Do you want me to leave?”

Instead of answering, I take River’s hand and move it over my breast, trying hard not to melt into his touch.

River nods once and swallows, his hand tightening gently. When I guide his other hand to my chest, something too quick to read flashes in his gaze. Drawing a sharp breath, River stands up quickly, striding over to latch the door.

“All right then,” he says, his broad back still to me as the air’s sudden chill brushes away the heat left behind by his touch. Without ceremony, the male starts to undress himself. Boots. The sash hugging his abdomen. The laces of his shirt collar. Reaching behind him, River pulls off his burgundy tunic in a single motion, the chiseled muscles of his back flexing like wings.

Stars take me. No one should be able to turn the simple process of taking off a shirt into a sex-clenching ritual, especially without even knowing he’s doing it. But it’s always been thus with River, hasn’t it? Forever there, forever perfect, forever out of my reach. Until now. In some form at least.

I’ve just realized that I should probably be undressing as well when River reaches for his fly and all thought leaves my head. Practical, I tell myself firmly, snatching at reason before it escapes me completely. This is a practical exercise.

River turns to face me.

My hands tighten on the edge of the mattress, my body tensing at the sight of his perfect, naked form, a field of muscle narrowing into taut hips and a cock standing erect even now. Yes, of course the male can prepare himself from thoughts alone—more likely than not with memories of Daz.

Heat touches my cheeks as River catches me watching. Likely thinking me an idiot for enjoying the show instead of getting on with things. “Right,” I mutter as I rise. Turning my back to him, I reach for my shirt quickly, trying to make up for lost time. We don’t have a lot of that. “Sorry.”

Attacking the shift first, I pull on the fabric. Once. Twice. Stars. Twice my size, my uniform tunic usually feels like a bedsheet—yet the one time I need to remove it expeditiously, the thing grows vines for sleeves, which wrap tighter around my wrists the harder I try to pull them off. My jaw clenches, the humiliation in my throat somehow making my hands work even worse.

I feel River’s warmth behind me, his earthy scent and power caressing my skin. Wordlessly, the male takes hold of my hands, calming them. That done, he brushes his wide palms along my body, his touch practical but gentle. Finding the hem, he pulls my tunic over my head with a great deal more grace than I was managing.

Cool air brushes my skin, but I let myself think about none of it as I reach for my chest wrap.

“Why don’t I do that,” River says, his voice so carefully controlled to conceal reproach that I flush again. “At the rate you’re going, you just might strangle yourself with the cloth.”

Right. I stand still, begging the stars to open a chasm in the floor beneath me. Instead, they grant me only the efficient feel of River’s hands as he removes the rest of my clothes and, sliding his arms beneath me, lifts my naked body onto the bed. Practical. Controlled. Kind. The perfect commander, simply doing his duty to protect his quint.

River hovers over me and runs his gaze down my body, stumbling on my peaked nipples. His breath catches, his hands fisting in the sheets. “I’ll—is there anything specific you enjoy to prepare?”

Breathe, I order myself, the proximity of River’s body already making me throb with need. Prepare. I think I’ve been prepared for River from the moment I shared his saddle on our ride through Mystwood—at least my body was. My mind . . . That is another matter. Though thoughts are quickly losing all meaning. Blinking at River, I realize that he still awaits an answer and I feel my sex tingle in spite of itself.

I meet his eyes, the wall inside them too high and thick for me to see through. But as my stomach tightens with hurt, I discover a new desire burning in my core. This coupling, it isn’t something River is going to do to me. It will be something we do together. Drawing a shallow breath, I run my palms over River’s arms, his shoulders. His chest, tight with a held breath as he braces himself over me on outstretched arms.

Tense, hard muscles holding so still for my exploration that I wonder whether the male isn’t made of stone. Only the sight of his cock, large, glistening, and twitching with every heartbeat, gives away that River is aware of my touch.

In spite of myself, I feel my gaze rivet to the twitches. To the small bead of moisture slipping from the tip of River’s cock and snaking down along the velvety head, begging to be lapped off. My own sex, somehow finding the pattern of River’s throbs, clenches in an uncomfortable harmony.

Pulling my eyes away from River’s cock, I slide my hands along his abdomen, his muscled thighs. Cupping his balls, I stroke the velvet-smooth shaft with my other hand. His eyes shudder closed for one brief moment, then open with a snap as if nothing happened. “Are you ready?” I ask. My voice is hoarse, my lips begging to make contact with his.

“Yes,” River says.

Yes. The word echoes through me, filling a longing that I thought would remain a dream forever. Except that in my dream, River said yes for pleasure, not prudence.

I wait for something more from him, for a flash of need or desire. For anything but those neutral gray eyes, that impenetrable wall that will not let me through.

Nothing.

I swallow. “All right, then,” I say after a moment, surprised by my steady voice. “I’m ready too.”

The male nods and lifts one arm off the bed, spreading open my legs with a warm palm. I whimper softly as my thighs separate with a soft, wet plop.

Without another word, River cups my backside, raising it to a perfect angle before slowly sliding himself inside.