“No d-drink,” I berate, shaking my head. “No.”
She nods—a lot.
And fast.
I shake my head with the same vigor. “No.”
Her gaze shifts from my eyes to my mouth, then to my gills, brow buckling when it settles on my nose. She pinches it hard enough to stop any air from flowing in or out, and my eyes widen.
With a surge of adrenaline, I snatch her wrist, flip us both, and pin her beneath me, dashing liquid candescence over the furs as I bear my weight down upon her and grunt in her face—deep and fucking rough.
Her eyelids flutter.
She stills, hair a tousled halo, looking up at me with full-moon eyes. There’s something in their sunstruck depths, a shimmering lure I want tochase.Catch. Cradle.
Curl around.
Something in the way she’s spread beneath me, pressed against my nakedness—soft and supple and savage to the core.
Beautifully feral.
An unbuffed treasure.
The hot surge of throbbing pressure between my legs crumbles my resolve.
Fuck.
I tip sideways into a heap to shield her from the prodding intrusion, and a slash of pain strikes me like another bolt to the chest. Biting down the urge to scream or vomit or maybe both, I hear a slosh of water. A gentle tap of glass to shell.
Vicious straddles my waist, and my spine bucks as she rips the scale off my chest so fast another wave of vomit threatens, then she’s tipping the liquid onto my wound like a pour of fire.
She’s going to kill me. Then probably eat me.
At this point, that seems peaceful.
I grind out big, aching breaths while she smooths the scale and pats down the edges before battling with the buttons on her shirt. One by one they give way until all her curves are bared to me.
My heart skips a beat.
Several.
I take in her tiny waist, full breasts and hips that could make the sea scream. Her smooth stomach leading to a dainty, white tuft at the apex of her spread thighs that are wrapped around me …
I feel my hard, naked length pulse.
Look away, you fucking brute.
She peels the shirt off, dashes it over me, eyeing my ready shaft as she does so. A pink blush spreads across her cheeks, and I shift my stare to the far side of the room.
Don’t think. Or smell.
Don’t fucking move.
A long silence drifts by, and I dissect each of her short, sharp breaths like I’m going mad—trying to twist them into words. Trying to convince myself her silence means something it likely doesn’t.
She climbs over me, and I continue to stare at the wall, listening to her paw the furs, mounding the spot right beside me into a cushioned pile. She shifts my arm and balls up against my side, her breaths a warm patter on my ribs.
Slowly, her hand threads across my chest, settling on a spot near my hurt, and shetaps, taps ... taps ...
