Her body sliced through the frigid turbulent water, hitting pockets of fiery warmth as she swam downward. Chased something she could not see. Yet it was there. She knew it. Felt it.
What, though?
What was hidden there?
Because something was hidden in the icy-cold flames. Hidden in one of the things Liam loved most. It called to her. So she kept swimming down. Her lungs burned. Everything blurred. But she kept going. Felt rather than saw what she swam toward when she made it to the bottom of the mast.
When she wrapped her hand around a metal hilt, thenboom.
Everything went dark and very, very cold. Death wrapped around her, and she sank into the abyss. Down, down, down, until something caught her and dragged her back up.
Made ice turn to something slightly less painful.
Then less painful morphed into something else. A place of lust and desire and things she wasn’t allowed. Things that tempted her so much she curled into the warmth.
Longed for it in ways that were forbidden.
“I should stay away,” she whispered, groaned, into the dark abyss. “’Tis wrong.”
Yet she didn't care even as anger flared. Anger at herself. At the warmth. At what made her different when she had long prided herself on being strong. Unique. Better than the rest. For too long, it hadn’t mattered that it was frigid where she had been. Icy cold from the inside out.
Now it did.
She wanted the warmth. An escape from the rigid bars she’d imprisoned herself in. Ones she had strived for. Welcomed at one time. Run, stay, run, stay, echoed in her mind. Right, wrong, so very wrong, yet she reached out for the warmth.
Caressed it.
Pressed her flesh against it.
“I don’t want to be cold anymore,” she whimpered, straddling it. Locking it down. Refusing to let it go. “I don’t want to bemeanymore.”
She felt it fighting her, worried about her, trying to make sure she understood the warmth was dangerous. That she wasn’t thinking clearly.
But it didn’t matter.
She felt how passionate the warmth could be. How loving. How it awakened an ache deep inside. Made her come alive. Feel different. Open and throbbing. Desperate.
She wanted more.
So much more
Wanted to understand what built inside her. What had been kept from her. What the warmth could show her.Giveher. So she rubbed herself against it. Relished its blazing heat and strength.
“Shannon,” a masculine voice said hoarsely, his warm, heavy breath in her ear. “What are ye doing, lass?”
She had no idea. Not really. All she knew was the ache between her thighs had grown painful. The raging desire for warmth had turned to unequivocal lust. Like nothing she had ever felt. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should move away, that none of this made sense, but when she felt his steely hot length pulsing between her thighs, she didn’t care.
Not about anything but keeping his heat against her.
Feeling it deep inside her.
“I can’t stop,” she groaned, dragging her center back and forth over him in the darkness. “’Tis not yer fault,” she whispered, having no idea why she said that. Why she spoke with an accent. “It never was.”
He had no chance to respond before she took him into her bit by bit, working his substantial thickness carefully. Grateful he didn't fight her, she rolled her hips to ease the way. Groaned at the feel of him stretching her. Filling her. Making all sorts of nerve endings come alive.
Making his heat turn into a raging inferno.
She barely breathed as she sank on to him. Felt things she wasn’t allowed to feel. He was so hot. Hard. More than she anticipated.
