Not until I give.
I reach up, pressing my palms flat against his chest. His skin is hotter than the water, a heat that seeps through my hands and arrows straight down to curl low in my belly, pooling between my legs.
His lips part on a sharp inhale and a tremor wracks his thick frame. He wants.
And so do I. My fingers trail lower, down the ridges of his abs, past the deep cut of muscle leading lower.
A flicker of a smirk ghosts over his lips. Then, without aword, he takes my hands and starts moving, leading me deeper into the water. Into the darkness.
I let him. I should not, but I do.
The glow of the cave shifts, the bioluminescence trailing lazily over our skin as he maneuvers us into the deeper pools. The water changes here—hotter, stronger, more alive. As if it’s a manifestation of the hunger pulsing between us, it swirls in currents that pulse over my legs and thighs, a steady, rhythmic pressure that makes my breath hitch.
The Migoi lifts me as the water deepens, angles my body, tilting me slightly, and the hot stream of water cascades lower—gliding down over my back, the curve of my ass.
I gasp, arching under the sensual attack, the current startling in its intensity but nothing compared to the fiery contact of my breasts grazing against his heated flesh.
A deep, pleased rumble vibrates through his chest, through me, pushing out into the dark corners of my body.
Before I can react, he moves as fast as lighting, spinning me in the water until my back is pressed flush against his front. The contact has me inhaling sharply, the scent of snow and pine washing over me above the mineral of the water as I am surrounded by him.
His massive arms cage me in, one wrapping across my breasts, dwarfing them in his hold, while the other grips my hip, anchoring me against him. His mouth hovers just over my shoulder, his breath searing against my exposed throat.
The faintest scrape of those elongated canines I had a glimpse of earlier teases my flesh as if he wants to bite me. And gods help me, I melt.
Because I feel him. All of him. His cock is like fire, pressed against my ass and reaching up to the small of my back, velvety and impossibly thick, the veins on his shaft pulsing with the warmth of his barely-leashed restraint.
Heat spikes through me, need unfurling low and dangerous.
I squirm, testing the strength of his grip, not sure if I am trying to get closer or further away when his growl deepens, his fingers turning possessive on my hip.
“Dahlia.” My name is more snarled than spoken, gritted between clenched teeth. A blessing or a curse, I’m not sure, but the warning is clear.
But so is the way his hips twitch, as if his restraint is breaking, as if he is one heartbeat away from losing control. There is a fine tremble to the arms bracketing me, a frisson of energy coursing through him and into me.
A wicked shiver dances down my spine at the thought of him unchained. Unfettered. Wild and free, like I wish to be.
I tip my head back, exposing more of my neck, and his sharp inhale is the only confirmation I need. I can't help but strum this live wire, knowing full well I'm standing in water. The current is already surging, and if it kills me—what a way to die.
“I like the way you say my name,” I confess into the dark caverns, voice breathy. Not the nickname I loathe, Dolly. Not Dahlia in Ben’s mocking tone but Dahlia—strong, fierce, true. The way only he could say it.
His grip tightens.
“Dahlia,” he growls again, this time lower, rougher, his lips brushing my bare shoulder, the scrape of his teeth more insistent, teetering on the edge of piercing my flesh.
Gods help me, I want more. Emboldened by his response, I thrust my ass back against him, and his growl snaps into something harsher, hungrier.
He angles me so that, once again, the current reaches for my body. It’s everywhere, warm and pulsing, like a lover’s hand—seeking and insistent. His fingers blaze a fiery trail from my hip down between my legs, shoving the thin fabric of my panties aside and parting my flesh just enough for the heated water to rush against my sex.
I jerk against him, a ragged moan slipping from my lips at the relentless current pulsing against me.
A dark chuckle falls from his lips, whispering over the shell of my ear, and I know we are crossing over into unchartered territory. Perhaps even more dangerous than that damn avalanche.
His muscles ripple against me, every flex deliberate, every motion agonizingly precise as he directs the jet exactly where he wants it—where he wants me to feel it.
And oh, I do. The water pulses between my thighs, demanding surrender, rolling over my clit in steady waves. Too much yet not enough. Not nearly enough. My head lolls against his chest as my legs tremble, but his arms hold me firm, his large hand splaying across my stomach to keep me in place.
I try to twist, to escape the onslaught of sensation, but it only makes it worse. He shifts his hips and moves so his cock, now fully hard, slips up between my thighs. It’s scorching heat hotter than even his body.
