#ozara

Those molten amber eyes burned against hers from where he stood, the heat of them seeping through to her core. He seemed to be waiting—for something, some hint from her. Katara held his gaze, beckoning, a silent invitation. And at last, Ozai closed the distance with quiet, intentional steps.

Whisper-light, his warm fingers swept the weight of her hair from her shoulder. She skimmed her hands up the strength of his arms, over the hard planes of his chest. Fingertips caressing the scar that marked her fight to pull him back from death's clutches, a choice that sparked a shift neither could have foreseen, binding them in ways they never imagined.

Something in his gaze took her breath away, its depth and intensity defying words. It pinned her for a long, heavy beat before he leaned down and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the curve of her bare shoulder.

Katara’s eyes fluttered closed as his hot breath blossomed over her skin. She shivered, tipping her head for him. The scrape of his beard teased her skin, his lips brushing the dip between her neck and collarbone, a soft delicate stroke that sent sparks through her nerves. Tracing his mouth up the side of her neck, Ozai placed another kiss over her fluttering pulse. A breath snagged in her throat. Another on the sensitive flesh below her earlobe sent goosebumps erupting over her skin, one more on the rise of her cheekbone.

Her fingers and toes curled, long-simmering desire thrumming like liquid fire through her veins. The tip of his nose grazed her cheek, his breath tracing a languid path toward her lips, only to stop short, hovering there. Hesitating. The fragile pocket of air between them was electric with tension, but he made no move to close it. And a flicker of understanding flared through her haze.

He was asking permission.

Ozai—the man who moved through the world as though expecting it to bend to his will, as if it owed him nothing less—was waiting for her signal to proceed.

A tingle fluttered dizzily in her belly. Because there was no doubting now—half-dressed and alone in the warm, dark quiet, safe at last from the clawing shadows and dangers that had hunted them—where this was leading if she said yes.