“We’re a crew and we work as a team,” I say. “If you weren’t there, he’d be at the bottom of the sea, becoming one of them.”
“Alright then,” he reluctantly says. “I’m glad I could help.”
We smile at each other and something warm and easy settles between us, the kind of comfort that shouldn’t be possible between two people who have known each other less than a week, most of which he spent unconscious.
He sits back down on the bed and glances at the water cup on the bedside table. “May I?”
“Of course,” I grab it and hand it to him. When he takes it from me, our fingers touch. His hand is so warm now. So different from when I first found him in the ocean.
His gorgeous green eyes meet mine, holding my gaze for a moment over the rim of the cup before he takes a long sip, draining half of it. He smiles at me—those sexy lips all wet—and then downs the rest of it.
“I’ll get you more,” I say, getting up.
“Wait,” he says, putting his hand on my knee. “Don’t go just yet.”
I didn’t want to go anyway. I slide back into my chair and we just stare at each other with smiles on our faces. I had so many questions to ask him, but now they’re all a blur in my mind. I forgot about all of them entirely. He’s just too hot. He makes my brain stop working.
“So,” I say, pulling myself together. “We were having quite the conversation before we got interrupted. You were saying something about mates...”
“And you weren’t quite believing me,” he says, setting the cup down. “Do you believe me now?”
I reach over without thinking and push a strand of hair off his forehead. My fingers trail along his temple, his cheekbone, the line of his jaw. He goes very still beneath my hand, barely breathing, those eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that makes my heart pound.
“It’s beginning to sink in,” I admit.
“Good,” he says softly.
I sit on the bed next to him, curling my leg under me as I turn toward his body. He’s not wearing anything but the shorts I left him and even those are too much. A naughty part of me wishes I had left him no clothes at all.
“You really think we’re mates?” I whisper.
He slides his hand over mine and it feels so natural I could cry. “I’m certain,” he says in that low raspy voice. “You’re mine, Calista.”
I know it’s true. My whole body is aching, letting me know he’s not lying.
I don’t make a conscious decision to kiss him.
I just do.
One moment, I’m looking at his hand on mine, and the next, my mouth is moving toward his. I touch his soft warm lips withmine, moaning at the taste and the pleasurable feeling of kissing my mate.
His hand comes up and cups the side of my face. His lips part and he kisses me back with a warmth and a sureness that makes every nerve in my body come alive. It’s exciting and intoxicating and feels soright.
I have never been kissed before, but even I know, inexperienced as I am, that this kiss is different. I could kiss a thousand men and not one would be like this. I feel my soul clicking into place, like it’s found its matching puzzle piece. Like I’ve just arrived home after decades away.
My whole body knows intimately that these are the lips I’m meant to kiss.
Lustful heat builds low in my stomach and spreads through my body until it’s all I can think about.More. I wantmore.
His strong hand slides into my hair and I lean into him with a moan, loving the feeling of his soft tongue sliding into my mouth. I don’t want to ever stop kissing this man.
I place my hand on his warm chest and I can feel his heart beating for me. I slide down to his abs and then lower… lower…
I want to feel if he’s as turned on as I am. If he’s rock hard for me.
But before I reach his shorts, his hand clamps around my wrist with a heavy groan.
“We can’t,” he whispers on my lips.
