As if on cue, the clothes clinging wetly to my body above the warm waters start to cool, leeching the heat from my skin.
“Oh, of course. I’m sorry. You’re right,” I say sheepishly, and start peeling off layers, clumsy and shivering, aware of his eyes following my every movement. When I struggle to pull off my boot, he steps forward and uses a single claw to slice the tangled laces free. Feeling shy despite the dim light in the caverns, I strip but leave my soaked white tank and panties on.
I thrust my soggy pile at him and watch him vault out of the water with fluid ease. When he returns, his silver eyes fall to my peaked nipples blatantly visible through the thin wet fabric. His gaze turns molten, and my skin heats hotter than the water around us.
I let him take my hand and guide me deeper. The pool glows brighter here, and I trail my fingers through the glow, entranced, as a laugh escapes me—light and unguarded.
“Do that again,” he says softly.
I look up, caught by the change in his voice. “Do what?”
“Laugh.”
Then he sweeps me into his arms and spins me, pulling more laughter from my lips. For a moment, I forget everything. The snow and suffocation, betrayal and degrees, the elusive flower, even Ben, all just fall away.
Here I am warm and safe. Seen.
When I reach for his jaw, my fingers trembling, he goes still.
Our eyes meet.
And I realize with a start, I want him to kiss me.Needhim to. I’m drowning again—but this time in pools of liquid silver heat, and the only thing that will save me is his kiss. I need him to breathe his air into me, to ease the tightness of suffocation gripping my chest for the third time today.
The already humid air thickens with the tension that blooms between us like a rare flower. Beautiful and exotic.
But instead of kissing me, his tongue traces his lower lip, a glint of pointed canines showing as he guides me deeper into the pool. The water begins to move, glowing and swirling as if alive. But I can’t tear my eyes away from his.
In the deeper waters, a current flows over my body like a lover's hands. He positions me against a jet-like pulsing. It strokes my back, lower, until it pulses between my thighs, and my gasp is immediate.
He growls, low and feral, and spins me so my back is pressed to his chest. His rapidly-hardening cock rubs against the swell of my ass, thick and impossibly hot.
His hand slips beneath my tank to palm my breast. The other moves between my thighs, tugging my panties aside. The water finds me there, steaming and relentless, and I cry out as it pulses against me.
His voice is dark silk at the shell of my ear. “What was that song you were singing earlier?”
Song? What song? I can’t answer him when all I can think about is his hands roving over my breasts. All I can feel is the heat of his impressive erection grinding against me. And that damn relentless water is driving me mad.
“Back that ass up?” he murmurs, every syllable drenched in wicked satisfaction.
Caught off guard, I laugh, but then he adjusts himself so that his monster cock is between my thighs. When he thrusts, my laugh trails off into a moan. Desperate for more, I cross my ankles and squeeze my knees, trapping him there, grinding down on him.
He groans, the sound vibrating through my back.
“That’s it,” he growls. “Let me feel how much your body weeps for me.”
I reach down, attempting to fit my fingers around the thick,tapered head of his cock that protrudes past my legs. He pulses against my palm, and I stroke slowly, worshipfully, exploring every vein, every ridge that I can reach. Precum coats my fingertips like liquid fire.
His hand returns to my clit, working in perfect counterpoint to the jet. My hips shift, chasing the rhythm, hungry for more. They can’t decide whether to try to grind down onto the girth between my thighs or seek out the pulsating water.
“Please,” I whisper, the need raw in my voice.
He releases my sex and yanks my tank top to expose my breasts to his questing hands. He massages them, easily supporting my weight in the water so I can grind against him. I feel every ridge, every contour and pulsing ropelike vein along the iron shaft trapped between my thighs. My soaked tanktop clings to my curves, nipples taut against his palms. I am lust incarnate.
Ben always made me feel like I was too much. Too soft. Too needy. But this creature—he holds me like I’m perfect. Like I was made to be worshipped.
I moan, pussy dripping, thighs trembling. Sliding back and forth along his shaft until the tapered head nudging against my clit has me so close, but I can’t get enough friction with the slick water.
His fingers twist into my hair, tilting my head back until I meet his gaze to find those silver storms swirling with hunger. His other hand slices my panties free with a quick flick of his claws, then slips inside me.
