She bared her sharp teeth at him. Eric grinned and pushed in a little more.
Again, he got a sigh, followed by a groan of irritation. Oh, how he was going to love their fights as well as their make-ups. He was happily thinking about how he was going to torture his wife when his brain turned off the logical parts and his pleasure sensors took over. He had tried to resist the soft, velvety feel of her. What a foolish errand.
Her slickness urged him deeper. Her intimate muscles pulled him farther inside. There was no barrier as he pushed deeper.
Did sirens not have a maidenhead? It was as thoughshe'd done this before. As though they'd done this before. As though they were made for each other.
Eric tried to slow down, tried to be gentle. Neither his body nor her body were hearing of it. He sank into her like an anchor dropping into the water. The tide pulled them together. Eric plunged until he bottomed out.
And that's when he heard his siren sing. It was accompanied by his baritone roar.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ursula lay tangled in the sheets, her body humming from the pleasures Eric had given her. For a novice, the man was good—damn good. He'd stroked her in places the eels had never reached. His arms stayed wrapped around her long after the last shuddering gasp of release, holding her close like she was precious—or as if he thought she might disappear if he let go.
She should have wanted to go. She never lingered. Never craved a male's warmth. Yet here she was, curled against her prince, her palm resting over his steady heartbeat. Her body thrumming with the memory of how he had worshiped her.
It was absurd that this man, this prince, had been a virgin. She had expected clumsy eagerness, rushedfumbling, blind hunger. Instead, she had gotten devotion, restraint, patience that bordered on reverence—for the second time.
The first time had been desperate, quick, overwhelming. But still good. Great, even.
The second time had been slower, deeper, like he was learning her—memorizing every sound she made, every place on her body that made her arch, made her tremble. By the third time, he wasn’t just touching her. He was ruining her.
Prince Eric acted as if he had all the time in the world on their wedding night. He'd used his patience, dragging pleasure out of her until her body was boneless, pliant. Until she had forgotten everything but the feel of him inside her, over her, surrounding her.
Ursula shifted, stretching. The ache that rippled through her wasn’t just from what they’d done in the sheets. She had been on land too long. Her lungs could manage the air, but her gills needed water. A full, deep breath of the sea, something cold and unfiltered.
She slipped carefully from Eric's arms. He murmured something in his sleep, his grip tightening before he exhaled and relaxed back into the pillows. She let herself linger long enough to take in the sight of him—bare, sprawled out in tangled sheets. His skin kissed by moonlight. His dark curls tousled from her fingers, raking through them.
Then she slipped out of the cabin, off the boat, and into the sea.
The moment the water touched her skin, the magic surged through her. Her legs fused, flesh rippling like liquid silver. Her knees bent and reformed. Her feet flattened into the smooth, sleek fin of her tail. The sensation was more liberation than pain.
Her skin shimmered in the moonlit water, bioluminescent lines along her tail pulsing. Her gills opened to drink in deep, sweet lungfuls of salt and current and life. She flipped once, then again, spiraling through the water like a creature unshackled, muscles stretching in ways they had been aching to.
This was who she was. Not a woman in silks and jewels. Not a bride standing at an altar. Not a body tangled in a prince’s sheets.
She was of the sea. She belonged to the depths. When she surfaced, brushing her hair back, she saw him.
Eric stood at the edge of the boat, watching her. His arms were braced against the railing, the same arms that had been wrapped around her not moments before. His hair was mussed from her passionate caresses, his bare chest bathed in moonlight. He was gloriously naked and unashamed.
“May I join you?”
He waited patiently for her answer. Hedidn't take for granted that his place beside her was his due as her husband. He didn't assume that it was his right as a prince. It was clear by his erection that he wanted her again, but he was waiting for her consent.
Ursula gave it.
His body broke the water, and she swore the temperature of the water rose a few degrees. Eric moved like he was born of the tide, slicing through the dark waves with effortless grace. His strong shoulders flexed as he swam toward her. Not like a man who had just woken from tangled sheets, warm and sated from their bedsport. Not like a prince weighted by duty and expectation. Like someone unburdened, weightless, free.
When he reached her, he did not speak. He simply looked at her. His gaze tracked the slope of her bare shoulders, the soft swell of her un-shelled breasts, the way her flesh tapered into shimmering scales, leading down to the powerful sweep of her iridescent tail.
There was no fear in his expression. No unease. No hesitation. Only wonder.
“You’re beautiful.”
Ursula’s fin flicked involuntarily beneath the water, sending tiny ripples over the surface. She had been admired before, worshiped before. So why did this feel different?
“I needed to stretch my fin. And take a breath of thesea.” She reached up, brushing her hair away from the side of her neck, exposing the slits of her gills. “Just as you can hold your breath beneath the waves, I can do the same on land. But eventually, I have to return to the sea.”
