Oh gods.She didn’t want to say it. She feltstupidsaying it, like some insecure teenager who didn’t understand why her crush didn’t want to use tongue when they kissed.
But she wasn’t an insecure teenager. She was an adult woman with newly awakened sexual needs. If Emory didn’t want to fulfill those needs, then it was best they both get that into the open as soon as possible.
And if he really didn’t want to share the ocean side of his life with her, then she could live with that — but only if it wasn’tbecauseof her.
She didn’t need someone to protect her mind. After a lifetime of pain and sacrifice, she’d learned how to do that just fine on her own. What sheneededwas a partner who would trust her when she said she was able to do things.
I need someone who sees me for everything I am, even the parts of me I’m still figuring out.
“And,” she repeated, stronger this time, “I’d like to know what I did to make you not want to— to touch me anymore. Because I want to do things with you, but it feels like you don’t want that now and I’m confused.”
A moment of dreadful silence made her stomach drop to somewhere around her ankles.
The showerhead fell to the tile floor with a clatter. It spun there, twisting in erratic circles and spraying an arcing stream of water across the glass. Clementine jumped back automatically, forgetting for a moment that there was a barrier between herself and the water.
She only had a second to be grateful for the glass before a large webbed hand slapped the door. A hairline crack snaked out from where Emory’s palm met the door as he pushed it open.
Lukewarm water splashed out, soaking her legs and socked feet, but Clementine only managed a yelp before her attention was taken by the snarl curling Emory’s black upper lip over his sharp teeth.
Speaking with melodic menace, he asked, “You think I don’t want totouchyou?”
“I— Yes?” She unwound her fingers to spear them through her hair. “I keep thinking about the day we met and how exciting it was and how much you said you wanted me, but now it’s like you don’t anymore and I don’t know what I didwrong.”
In that same melodic voice, Emory asked, “Do you want me to touch you?”
“Yes.” Her throat felt almost too dry to speak, but not looking at him helped get the words out. If she could pretend like she was just admitting it to herself, it wasn’t quite so hard. “I… I want to try things with you.”
“You want me to fuck you?”
She wasn’t sure why he had to say it like that, especially when she felt like she was being pretty damn clear about what she wanted. Frustrated and embarrassed, Clementine dropped her hands and rasped, “Yes!”
Quick as lightning, that webbed hand shot out to fist the front of her t-shirt. Clementine stumbled into the shower with a squeak. The fabric of her socks became hopelessly drenched as she slid over the tile to stand in front of the bench, where Emory still somehow managed to loom over her.
“My naughty mate,” he growled, cupping the back of her neck to draw her closer. She yelped again when those sharp teeth grazed her lower lip in a nip of rebuke.
Her heart lurched in time with her magic. Every time he touched her, she felt it fizzing under her skin in a way she never had before. It added something complex and otherworldly to the hot, syrupy attraction that threatened to drown her whenever he pressed that dangerous mouth against hers.
“Do you have any idea what time of year it is?” Something in his tone triggered a cascade of goosebumps to erupt over her skin.
“Um, almost spring?”
“Spring.” Emory’s left hand slid under the collar of her shirt. His claws hooked in the fabric, pulling it taut and away from her chest. Clementine arched her back automatically, but he wasn’t pulling her closer. With a powerful flick of his wrist, those black claws shredded the flimsy material of her shirt.
His lips skimmed her cheekbone on their way to hover over her ear. “Mating season. When the water is full of fat prey and our instincts say it’s time to fuck, to breed until our mates are swollen with seed. This time of year, we want our matesdrippingwith it.” The shredded remains of her shirt were yanked from her arms, leaving her in nothing but her sports bra.
Clementine’s chest heaved with great, gulping breaths.I said I wanted some of the predator back, didn’t I?
“I’ve been careful with you, my Clementine,” he grated, “but it hasn’t been easy. You think I haven’t wanted to fuck you every day we’ve been together? My cock might be permanently damaged from being stuffed behind my slit so often. Even if it wasn’t our breeding season, it would still take every ounce of my willpower to stop from claiming you like I’ve dreamed about. I want to tie you up and make you come until you scream for me. I’ve held back for you.”
Good gods.
“I know that I asked for slow, but I didn’t meannothing.”Her sweaty palms slapped the wall behind him, helping her balance as he began to methodically strip her out of her clothing. He flung her soaked leggings and socks into a corner before he smoothed his hands over her bare skin.
The air was cool without steam from hot water. Emory was used to the cold of the ocean, so it was no surprise that he wouldn’t necessarily want to take a hot shower, but ifshewas going to stand in the stall without her clothes on, she needed at least a little heat.
She fumbled blindly with the wall panel that controlled the rain showerhead. It helped distract her from the nerves that fluttered in her stomach when Emory disposed of her sports bra and then began to drag her panties down her legs.
A gentle downpour of warm water fell from the ceiling just as the last of her undergarments joined the pile in the corner.
