He laughs, a low, wicked sound that sends a shiver through me. His hand travels to my waist, pulling me close.
“You know…” he drawls, his smile turning mischievous, “I’ve got an idea for how you can burn off that anger.”
I raise a brow, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m very serious. Besides, holding onto all that rage can’t be good for you,” he says, fingers pressing into my waist, coaxing me closer. Despite myself, my forehead stays against his, and I swear I feel a jolt traveling all the way to my pussy, even though I try to stop it.
“You nearly died,” I whine.
“Nearly did,” he echoes, his tone almost mocking but warm, like he’s brushing past it. “I’ll tell you, the sea floor gets real cold.”
“Oh, does it?” I mutter, feigning indifference.
“Yeah. So I could use something to warm me up,” he murmurs.
“You’re impossible,” I manage, but the conviction’s all gone. The truth? I need this, too—something to pull me out of the pit that’s been growing since we dragged him from the water. The fear, the frustration—all of it’s got to go somewhere. And damn it, my nipples are already hard as pebbles, every nerve awake and blood rushing to my clit like it’s got no place else to be.
“I’m fucking freezing, love” he whispers. “Really need you to warm me up.”
The way he calls me ‘love’ used to drive me mad, but now… now it just pulls me in deeper. Makes me lean into him without even meaning to.
“They did say you needed to be kept warm,” I say, a little too casually.
“Healer’s orders?” he asks, voice teasing.
I nod, swallowing. “Yeah.”
“Seems like we’d better follow through, then.”
His lips meet mine, cold and bruised, sending a shiver down my spine. But he won’t stay that way for long. I’m here to warm him, and hell, I’ve got plenty to give.
His hands glide up my back, fingers tracing a path that leaves my skin humming. The best part? We’re already in bed, nearly naked, with nothing left to hold us back.
“I’ll take care of you,” I mutter into his lips.
Sliding under the blanket, I maneuver us both, shifting him onto his side and letting my leg rest on his hip. His arm slips under my head like a pillow, and his other hand skims up and down my thigh.
Before long, he’s warmer, his cheeks flushed, and his breath comes quicker, as though I’m breathing life back into him. His grip tightens on my leg, fingers digging into my skin with that barely restrained need of his, like he can’t help but want to hold on to me even tighter.
I’m no healer, but I’d say the treatment’s working.
When his hand slides up, catching on my makeshift undergarment—little more than a scrap of old sail I threw together—it peels off without a fight. I kick it aside, letting it fall where it may, and hook my leg back over him, all smooth, unbroken movement.
“You’re the only thing I need to feel good, Gypsy,” he exhales.
“Is that so? Am I your medicine, sailor?” My tone’s all taunt, my fingers tracing lines down his chest, over old scars and tattoos.
“Hell yes.” His eyes are dark and unflinching. “And you’re sweet with it.”
I laugh, rough and quiet. “Sweet, huh? Hard to believe you’d find me as such.”
“Shut up, love. I won the world.”
My heart pounds, and damn, the way his hand wraps around his cock, stroking it between us, his gaze locked on me like he’s worshipping and devouring all at once… it’s enough to make me ache. He looks wrecked, just on the edge, like I’m really the only thing he needs in the world.
But as much as I’d love to feel his cock inside my pussy right here, right now, there’s something I’ve wanted to try for a long time.
“Think you can lay still for me?” I murmur, running my nails over his skin, letting the question linger, daring him to say yes.
