“Are they… hieroglyphs?” he asked, searching for understanding.
“What?” I asked, the word unfamiliar.
“Words?” he clarified.
“No… sort of. It’s hard to explain,” I said, frustration building. “When theSeolaisrests in its home, the carvings will no longer be mere patterns. They will become a living map, a path that sings to me, showing the way through the jungle.”
“That simple?” he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.
“I hope so,” I whispered, a sliver of doubt creeping into my conviction.
I turned to him, drawn by an invisible force. The golden light of the fading sun danced on his skin, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the warmth in his eyes. Our gazes locked, the air between us thickening, charged with an unspoken energy.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he leaned closer. The world narrowed, focused solely on the promise in his eyes. His lips brushed against mine, a featherlight touch that sent a jolt of electricity through my body.
Then, his mouth was on mine, a kiss that was both tentative and demanding, a taste of the connection I had craved since the moment I saw him in his home. A soft moan escaped my lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. His tongue danced with mine, a slow, sensual exploration that mimicked the yearning in my soul.
I shouldn’t.
I can’t.
But the words were lost in the rising tide of desire. I deepened the kiss, my hands moving to his neck, pulling him closer, wanting to erase the space between us. My fingers brushed against the smooth wood of theSeolaishanging there. A faint warmth pulsed from it, an echo of his own heartbeat against my palm. His weight pressed against me, a delightful pressure I’d never experienced in the weightless embrace of the water.
He broke the kiss, his breath warm against my cheek, and trailed kisses down my neck. My fingers tangled in his hair, soft and dry against my skin.How is it possible a human could feel this good?
He kissed the exposed skin at the edge of my clothing, sending shivers down my spine. Emboldened, I began to explore his body, my hands tracing the broad lines of his shoulders and the muscles on his back. I pulled him down onto me, reveling in the delicious pressure of his body against mine.
I wanted more.
Ineededmore.
I pulled up his shirt, my fingers brushing against his skin. It was hot, soft, and surprisingly strong. I tugged at the material, wanting it out of the way, wanting to feel him against me, skin to skin. But he was kissing me again, his mouth finding mine, and I arched into him, lost in the sensation.
His elbows braced on either side of me, supporting his weight, allowing me to feel the full force of his desire. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer still. The pressure of his growing hardness against me sent a wave of bliss throughout my body, and my hips moved instinctively, seeking friction and release.
If I let this happen, if I accepted the pleasure he offered, and he gave me a gift, and we… well then, we could be consideredbonded. The thought echoed in my mind, a warning I should listen to.
I should tell him.
I should stop.
Instead, I kissed him deeper, pushing my tongue into his mouth, wanting to taste more of him, wanting to lose myself in the sensation. He groaned into the kiss, our lips moving together in a dance as the last vestiges of sunlight faded around us, cloaking us in shadows.
His hands slid up under my shirt, his fingers brushing against my skin, sending shivers of delight rippling through me. My breath hitched, and a gasp escaped my lips. The sensation was intoxicating, unlike anything I had ever experienced.
I didn’t want him to stop.
His hand glided higher, brushing the underside of my breast, and a jolt of pure pleasure shot through me, tightening my muscles and quickening my pulse. He pushed the fabric aside, the elastic band of my bra tight against my skin, but I didn’t care. His hand cupped my breast, his fingers squeezing gently, then teasingly circling from base to tip.
My mind swam with the sensations, the tension coiling within me, building, intensifying. I rocked my hips against him, the friction of our clothing a sudden, frustrating barrier.
“Get it off.” I gasped, the words more aggressive than I intended, raw with need.
He didn’t seem fazed. He moved back slightly, sitting up on his knees, his eyes burning into mine.
“Shirt,” he said with a playful wink before pulling it off over his head. TheSeolaispendant lay against the smooth expanse of his bare chest, the dark wood a stark contrast to his skin. A pulse of warmth emanated from the stone, or maybe it was from him, I couldn’t be sure.
The sight of him—powerful, real, and marked by my world—sent a wave of heat through me.I sat up, my hand reaching out to trace the lines of his chest, enjoying the way his skin prickled beneath my touch.
