“Does that mean...?” He seemed unable or unwilling to finish the question. “Do you want to start the Discard paperwork?”
“What does that mean? What is Discard?”
“It’s what we call a failed union.”
“Oh.” One argument—and he wanted to throw her away? One disagreement about morality—and he was done with her? “If you think that’s best.”
“I don’t think—”
A chime interrupted their tense discussion, and he glanced at their closed bedroom door in frustration. With a noisy exhale, he pivoted away from her and grabbed a pair of dark blue pants from a drawer. He hopped into them and left her standing there in the bedroom.
Alone and naked, she grew uncomfortable and rushed to find something to wear. There was another wrap style dress from the kit Swift had given her, and she carried it with her to the bathroom. It took her a moment to figure out how to lock the sliding door. She relieved herself and then took the fastest shower possible.
“Alys?” Swift knocked on the bathroom door as she was stepping away from the drying device that blasted her with warm air. “Breakfast is here.”
“I’ll be out in a moment.” She stared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She didn’t look any different than she had yesterday, but she felt like a whole new woman. She had left behind everything she had ever known to escape an arranged marriage and found herself in an unarranged union mate thing with a stranger. A handsome stranger. A kind stranger. A gentle stranger
A man who slept with prostitutes.
Except he doesn’t think they’re prostitutes.
Did that distinction matter?
The question troubled her as she finished dressing, pulling on the form-fitting underwear from the kit but skipping the too-small bra. Once the dress was tied, she unlocked the door, slid it open—and stepped right into Swift’s bare chest.
“Easy.” He touched her shoulders and guided her aside. “Breakfast is on the table.”
She nodded, uncertain what to say after their argument ended so abruptly. He entered the bathroom, and her gaze drifted to the unmade bed. She might not be his mate for much longer, but she wasn’t going to let him live in an untidy home. She smoothed out the wrinkled sheet and straightened the fluffy cover. As she adjusted the pillows, she couldn’t help but think that a proper quilt would look lovely on the bed. If she were staying, she would have made one, but...
“You didn’t have to do that.” Swift loomed in the doorway between the bathroom and bedroom. “I’m perfectly capable of making our bed.”
“Our?” She held one of the pillows in front of her almost like a shield.
“Yes?”
“For how long?” When Swift frowned, she reminded him, “You said you wanted to discard me.”
“I don’t want to discard you, Alys.”
“But you said—”
“I was offering you a choice.” He crossed the bedroom and walked around the edge of the bed until there was only the pillow between them. “You were—are—clearly uncomfortable with the realization that I paid for sex.”
“I am,” she confirmed, clenching the pillow.
“So, where do we go from here? I can’t ask you to stay if I disgust you.”
“You don’t disgust me, Swift.”
“But what I did disgusts you.”
“What you did was wrong. To me,” she clarified. “But I understand the rules of your world are different from mine.”
“If I thought it was degrading or abusive, I never would have done it,” Swift insisted.
“I believe that.”
“I won’t ever do it again.”
“I should hope not.”
Swift grasped the pillow and gently tugged it from her hands. He tossed it carelessly onto the bed. “I don’t want to discard you, Alys. I want you to stay. I want you to teach me about your culture, and I want to teach you about mine. I want us to find a way to mesh the two together and build traditions for our family.”
“That sounds lovely,” she said, wishing it could be just like that.
“But?”
“What if we can’t find a way to mesh things together in a way that works?”
“All we can do is try, Alys.” He clasped her hand and tugged her a little closer. “Let’s try.”
Hopeful, she smiled. “Okay, let’s try.”
Swift dipped down and kissed her, a fleeting touch of his lips against hers. When he started to pull back, she rose up to kiss him, luring him into a much deeper and more passionate tangle. He groaned and wound his arms around her waist before stabbing his tongue against hers. She clutched at his bare shoulders, and his hands moved down her hips to grasp her bottom. He squeezed and shifted her toward the bed, clearly signaling what he wanted.
“I just made the bed,” she protested between feverish kisses.
“I’ll make it when we’re done.”
“Our breakfast—”
“It’ll keep.”
“I just showered and—”
“And now I get to help you get all dirty again,” Swift said and then shoved her back onto the bed.
Certain he would have an answer for any objection she made, Alys gave up and decided to simply enjoy whatever he wanted to show her. As he untied and opened her dress, he made an appreciative noise at the discovery she wore nothing to cover her breasts. He seemed particularly fond of them, and the more he touched and suckled at them, the more she appreciated his fondness.
His mouth and hands eventually left her breasts and traveled lower. He skimmed over her belly to her underwear and drew them down her hips and thighs and finally off her feet. He gripped her thighs and shoved them wide open, baring her to his intense gaze.
Swift traced her labia and then parted them with his thumbs. “You’re dripping for me.”
Suddenly self-conscious, she covered her face with her hand. “Swift.”
One of his fingers slid inside her, showing just how wet she was for him. Another finger joined the first, and she gasped at the intrusion. His other hand returned to her breasts, caressing and keeping her on the edge of something wonderful. When his tongue swiped her clitoris, she cried out in happy shock. It felt even better than she remembered, and she didn’t want him to stop.
She dropped her hand and pressed up onto her elbows. She wanted to see him. She wanted to see Swift using his mouth on her in this intimate way. His pale blond head between her thighs was an image she would never forget. Her hand trembled as she reached out to stroke his hair and trace the shaved lines. He pressed into her hand, silently telling her that he enjoyed her touch.
His tongue swirled and flicked, and his fingers thrust in and out. She watched him until her arms began to shake and dropped down to the bed. Swift’s hand left her breast and traveled to her thigh. He pressed her leg aside, making more room. He took advantage of it, suckling and fluttering until she thought her heart was going to explode in her chest.
The panicked feeling grew stronger and stronger in her lower belly. She dug her toes into the bed and tried to breathe through it, to draw it out and make it last. The burst of joy left her breathless and writhing, calling out his name on wave after wave of pleasure.