Stop it.
She walked faster, following the path behind the largest outbuilding. The ground sloped down, and she had to watch her footing on the loose stones. She shivered as the temperature dropped another few degrees and hurried to get into the lee of the building, sheltered from the slight wind. Her fingers were going numb, so she shoved them deeper into her pockets.
White steam caught her eye, rising from behind rocks twenty yards out.
What was that?
She frowned and left the path, picking her way across the uneven ground. The steam grew thicker, and she could smell it now… minerals and heat and something sulfurous but not unpleasant.
Her eyes widened. Natural hot springs. Of course a place like this would have them. Someone had built up rocks around the largest pool, creating a rough circle maybe eight feet across. The rocks were worn smooth, fitted together without mortar. Steam rose from the surface, the water dark in the moonlight.
She moved closer, drawn by heat. Her boot slipped on wet stone and she caught herself, one hand out for balance.
Then movement caught her eye as the surface of the pool bulged, something rising from within.
Water sluiced off broad shoulders as Goraath stood up in the pool and her brain short-circuited.
Fuck.
He was naked. Or close enough. Some kind of covering that sat low on his hips, dark fabric that clung to him, wet and leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. Everything else was bare. Exposed. Magnificent.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Her eyes widened and she couldn’t look away as water ran down his chest, catching in the grooves between muscles and pooling briefly in the hollow of his throat. The scars she’d only glimpsed before were visible now. Some were thin and precise, slicing cleanly. Others were thick and ropy, brutal wounds that should have killed him.
One curved from his left shoulder down across his ribs, disappearing around his side. Another cut across his abdomen, vanishing beneath the fabric that hung from his lean hips.
Reaching up, he pushed wet hair back from his face, and the movement did things to his chest and arms that made her mouth go dry. Water droplets caught in the dark hair across his chest.
She should announce herself. Should back away. Should do anything except stand there frozen while her body went haywire.
But she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He turned, giving her a view of his back.
Holy fuck.
He was absolutely ripped and filled with muscle, the kind that came from actual use, from work and survival, not any alien gym. His shoulders were broad enough to block out stars, tapering to narrow hips…
He stretched, pulling every muscle taut. His head tipped back, exposing his throat, and he made a sound, low, satisfied, pure male, and it went straight through her.
Heat flooded her. Her nipples tightened against her thermal shirt, going hard and sensitive, every breath making the fabric drag across them.
He sank back into the water up to his chest, then stood again. Water streamed down the V of his hips, following that trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the fabric. The impressive bulge was barely contained by the material, the outline clear and devastating.
Her core clenched, empty and aching. Wetness flooded between her thighs, sudden and shocking in its intensity. She’d gone from aroused to desperate in seconds.
A twig snapped under her boot.
The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet night. Panic crashed through her. He started to turn and she dropped to crouch behind the nearest rock. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she was sure he’d hear it.
One second. Two. Three.
Fuck, had he seen her?
She held her breath, every muscle locked, thighs burning from the crouch.
Ten seconds. Twenty.
Finally, she peered around the rock. He’d settled back into the water, head tipped back against the edge, eyes closed. He hadn’t seen her.
