Setting Fire to the Stars (a MM Sci-Fi Romance)

Chapter 12: Temptation [M]

**(Warning. Pearl-clutching smutty language ahead. Age +18 Reader discretion advised.)**

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Lauren
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A wave of déjà vu swept over me as I blinked up at the dark gray ceiling. Thunder rolled as lightning flashed from the dark depths beyond my window. Confused about where I was, I attempted to roll onto my side, only to release a sharp hiss at the spark of pain that detonated across my ribs. Fuuuck.

"Shit—ow," I groaned, my entire body aching like I'd just taken a world class beating. Carefully, I prodded at the tender area of my ribs.

Forcing myself upright, I snuck a tentative glance down at my aching abdomen and an unintelligent whimper fell from my lips. My torso was colored a frightening shade of purple, standing out against my freckled skin. It looked like someone had sloppily tattooed smears of grape jelly onto my chest.

A deep intake of breath from the dark corner of the room had me whipping my head around. Instead of the masked assassin, I was shocked to see a certain raven-haired man. Peter reclined in the same leather chair that I had slept in yesterday, chest rising in slumber. I sighed in relief, my shoulders falling as I watched him.

He was splayed out on the chair, his muscular legs hanging open. I took in his hard jawline, noting how his features lacked their usual brooding scowl. Those unforgiving lips, normally twisted down in a grimace, met together softly like lovers. Tousled black hair tumbled over his forehead, messy and untamed. I liked it better that way. His chest rose and fell slowly and evenly, more relaxed than I'd seen him in a long while. It wasn't even my first time catching him asleep, but seeing him this peaceful was a rarity so I spared myself a few moment to take in the view.

Being our college's star athlete, it was no wonder that he was enormous. He looked like a one of those paintings of a lounging Greek god, skin sculpted from sun-warmed stone. Against my better judgment, my gaze drifted down his honed body. Holy Hell, the guy was seriously shredded, biceps straining against his too-tight shirt all the way down to where the fabric rode up just enough to glimpse those immaculate washboard abs. Years of football and weightlifting resulted in every part of him being outlined in beautifully cut ridges. I might not be as committed to my physique as he was, but that didn't mean that I couldn't appreciate all that hard work.

Warmth pooled in my lower stomach, heat tickled my cheeks before I darted my tongue out to lick chapped lips. Swallowing hard, my stare drifted down to the deep 'V' of Peter's hips. The lantern's amber glow slid down the hard contours of his warm skin like a caress, tracing every dip and rise, every subtle divot of his hard abdomen.

I . . . should probably stop, right? Ogling a straight man in his sleep was obviously taboo. Besides, I wasn't that desperate.

So stop looking, then. Come on, you can do it. Just look away.

. . .

Look away, dammit!

Being the weak man that I was, my sights delved further to the slight treasure trail leading into the band of his jeans. Then lower still, until—

Hoooooooo boy. I'm in trouble.

A daring, wicked heat coiled in me, my hands wringing together in an attempt to cease my lascivious thoughts. Seriously, I had to stop.