Page 95 of Head Under Water

He scoffs. “Is that a challenge? I know you, Opal. Wait until I show you what that means.”

“Oh, please. Like I haven’t been beating you at everything since we were six.”

“Not this.” He lunges, catching me around the waist before I reach his door. I shriek as he lifts me clean off the ground. “I’m ready for you this time.”

“Been preparing, have we?” I tease, trying and failing to mask my racing pulse.

“More than I’m planning to admit.” He tosses me onto the mattress, but he comes down too, bracing his weight on his hands so he doesn’t crush me.

Laughter spills between us, soft and electric at the same time. Nothing is awkward here. It’s just…right.

Eventually, the laughter fades and is replaced with something softer. A quiet tension that hums in the air between us. Raw. Inevitable. Perfect.

His thumb brushes my cheek. I meet his eyes, and the world narrows to him. “I’m not going anywhere. As much as it scares me. I’m here because I want you. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t want you with everything in me. Every version of you. Even the one who thinks I’m a swamp creature.”

Emotion tangles in my throat. I swallow, words lodged somewhere deep I can’t quite reach. I can’t resist reaching for him, tangling my fingers in his hair. “You can be my swamp creature.”

His smile isn’t cocky this time. It’s fragile. Tender in a way that knocks the air out of me. “God, baby.”

That word. Soft as a caress.

I pull him down, his lips a whisper against mine—soft, tempting. My pulse pounds in my ears, a feral drum.

“I want this.” I drag my teeth over his bottom lip. “You.”

He stills for a microsecond. His eyes squeeze shut, and he draws in a shaky breath. When they open, shivers crawl across my skin, igniting new flames within me.

He crushes his mouth against mine. Desperate. Pleading. Dominating. Everything between us—air, space, clothes—becomes an obstacle meant to be obliterated with that kiss.

I tug his shirt over his head, fingers trembling. That familiar saltwater scent hits me in a new way—driftwood keeping me afloat, a coastal storm meant only to hold me as it rages. He tears my jeans off like it’s the most natural, urgent thing in the world, dragging fabric out of his way with hands that know exactly where I need them.

Laughter and quiet curses tumble between us, punctuated by sharp gasps and desperate moans as we kiss and explore previously uncharted territory in between removing clothes.

We are a storm contained by these four walls.

Once we’re fully undressed, he looks over my body like it’s everything. All he’s ever dreamed of. All he’s ever wanted.

“Damn it…” he mutters. My chattery boy is suddenly at a loss for words. “Opal, I… This is… You are…”

“Yours,” I whisper against his neck, dragging him into me. “So take me.”

His hand moves down over my breasts and across my stomach, slowly, deliberately. Then his mouth, peppering my skin with soft kisses. He’s in no hurry at all. Instead, he’s mapping me. Memorizing. As if he can’t quite believe this is real.

“You okay?” he asks when he comes back to me, his mouth covering mine like he’s starving. His hand slips lower, voice rough.

“Yes.”

“Tell me if⁠—”

“I will.” My hand tangles in his hair again. I just need to feel him. “You know me. So prove it.”

His grin goes determined. He catches my arm, pinning it to the mattress as his mouth claims my wrist with a kiss. His teeth graze the skin there right before he slides his hand between my legs. I hold his gaze desperately, locked on him as he slips two fingers inside me, mirroring my exhale.

I gasp, head rolling back. “Will. Jesus.”

His lips spread into a pleased smile as he presses another kiss to my collarbone. “I’m just getting started, baby.” His fingers curl inside me, like he already knows my body so well, every part of me. My hips roll.

Another kiss grazes the space just below my ear, and I melt into him, breath going still.