"If that is what you want," he said, his voice dropping to a lower register that sent shivers cascading down my spine.
"What if I don't want my room to be next door?" I asked, my own voice growing breathless. Each word required more effort than the last as his fingers continued their exploration, leaving trails of heat in their wake.
"You don't?" Xabat frowned, confusion flickering across his features. I watched his expression shift, vulnerability making him look younger somehow, almost uncertain.
"What if I wanted my room to be the same as yours?" I clarified, watching his face carefully, my heart hammering against my ribs as I waited for his reaction. I'd never been this forward with anyone before, but with Xabat, it felt natural. Right.
The concern on his face evaporated instantly, giving way to a wide smile that transformed his entire countenance, lighting him up from within. "You would want to stay with me? Share my quarters?"
I nodded, suddenly beyond words, my throat tight with an emotion I couldn't name—or maybe I didn't want to nameit yet, because naming it would make it real and terrifying and wonderful all at once.
His mouth was on mine before I could draw another breath, and I melted into him with a soft moan. His hands slid down my sides, gripping my hips and pulling me flush against him. I could feel every hard plane of his body, the heat of him seeping through our clothes.
"Harper," he breathed against my lips, my name a prayer and a curse all at once. "Are you certain?"
"Yes," I gasped, tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. "God, yes."
He helped me pull the fabric over his head, and I ran my hands over the expanse of his chest, tracing the ridges of muscle, the tiny scales on his skin that made him so beautifully different. His breath hitched when my fingers found a particularly sensitive spot just below his collarbone.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured, his hands sliding under my sweatshirt, callused palms rough against my bare skin. "I have wanted this—wanted you—since the moment I saw you."
My sweatshirt joined his shirt on the floor, and then his mouth was on my neck, my collarbone, trailing lower. I arched into him, my fingers tangling in his hair as pleasure sparked through every nerve ending.
He lifted me easily, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me back to our makeshift bed. The plastic floats rustled beneath us as he laid me down, his body covering mine, his weight a delicious pressure.
"Tell me what you like," he whispered against my ear, his voice thicker now, roughened by desire. "I want to make this good for you."
"You already are," I managed, reaching for the waistband of his pants.
We fumbled with the rest of our clothes, laughing breathlessly when fabric caught or tangled, the urgency tempered by tenderness. When we were finally skin to skin, he paused, his eyes searching mine in the dim light.
"I am yours, Harper," he said softly, reverently. "If you will have me."
"I will," I whispered back, pulling him down to me. "I do." A few days ago I’d been a widow never thinking this kind of happiness would find me again. I would hold on to Xabat, to the way he made me feel as tightly as I could…forever.
He entered me slowly, carefully, his forehead pressed to mine as we both gasped at the sensation. For a moment, we stayed perfectly still, adjusting, savoring. Then he began to move, and I moved with him, our bodies finding a rhythm as natural as breathing.
His name fell from my lips like a chant as pleasure built and built, coiling tighter in my core. His hands were everywhere—in my hair, on my hips, sliding up my sides—worshipping every inch of me. When I finally shattered, crying out, he followed moments later, my name a groan against my shoulder.
We lay tangled together afterward, hearts racing, skin slick with sweat, neither of us willing to move or break the spell. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my back, and I pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart.
"So," I said eventually, my voice hoarse and satisfied. "Same room, then?"
His laugh rumbled through both of us. "Same room," he agreed, tightening his arms around me. "Always."
I meant to stay awake, to savor this moment, to memorize the feeling of his arms around me and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear. But exhaustion pulled at me like a tide, warm and irresistible, and my eyelids grew heavy.
"Sleep," Xabat murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest. His hand stroked through my hair, gentle and soothing.
I wanted to protest, to tell him I wasn't tired, but the words dissolved before they could form. Instead, I burrowed closer, breathing in his scent—salt and spice and something uniquely him—and let myself drift.
I wasn't sure how long we dozed like that, wrapped around each other in our cocoon of beach towels and body heat. Time felt suspended, irrelevant. The world outside could wait. The storm, the flooding, the uncertainty of what came next—all of it faded into background noise.
"Harper." Xabat's voice sliced through the comfortable silence—hushed, but urgent enough to spike my pulse.
I rolled over to smile at him, but the expression died on my lips. His attention was locked on the far wall, his entire body coiled tight with alertness.
"What is it?" The whisper scraped out of my throat.
