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He inhaled sharply, his breath warm on her neck.
Whatever was going on between them, whatever thoughts he had about them, he had shared something intimate, something important, something deeply private with her. And that counted more than anything ever could, right? That gave her more hope than anything else could have.
He had let her under his skin. She just needed to make herself a home there.
Pressing soft, gentle kisses to his scar, she followed the trail of the jagged line, holding the sides of his jaw in her hands, feeling his facial hair cushion her palms. She kissed him over his cheek, down the line to the corner of his mouth, all the while aware of the way he held himself, taut and rigid while still taking her affection. And she gave it freely, loving him as her heart desired, openly, shamelessly, abundantly.
She stopped at the corner of his mouth, pulling back an inch to look at him, her chest heaving.
Since that first night at the fight when she’d jumped him, he hadn’t kissed her. Through all their romps and ruckus around the house, he’d not once kissed her even though she’d been dying for his mouth, gnawing for his taste, hungry in ways she’d never been because he’d been right there yet so far away.
She held his gaze, the moment suspended between them, the invitation, the plea, the call clear as she closed her eyes, waiting, praying, hoping that he didn’t leave her cold again, that he closed the distance and restarted her heart where it lay struggling in her chest.
He pushed her into the back of the pool subtly, his minty breath over her face, his bulky arms contracting at her sides, the wall of his chest pressing against her breasts. Her nipples, as sensitive as they were, pebbled against him. She stayed still, like a river waiting for the earth to change its course, flowing where it took her, turning as it bent.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Zephyr.”
His words were soft, a lethal edge to them that made her squeeze her eyes shut tighter. Zephyr. Still not ‘rainbow’ in so long it had become a memory like ‘sunshine’ had, a name she kept tucked safely in a mental drawer, to pull out when she needed the comfort.
She didn’t say anything, simply held his face, the urge to tell him who she’d once been to him clashing with the urge to protect his mind from itself. She’d take the burden gladly if it kept him sane and safe.
And it was really sad, but she missed him.
He was right there against her, and she missed him with every cell in her body.
“Look at me,” he commanded, and she complied, her eyes opening, her gaze locking with his.
His thumb came to her chin, held her face in place, and his face dipped.
Heart thundering in her chest, Zephyr held his gaze as he pressed his mouth to hers, her lips parting on a gasp as he pulled back, watching her like a hawk, swooped in again, pressing another soft kiss to her mouth that belied the aggression simmering in his body.
She closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation of his lips on hers, his facial hair rubbing around her mouth, his tongue flicking over the edge for a little taste, his chin holding her steady. She took it and touched his scar with her fingers again.
And the dam burst.
In a heartbeat he pressed her flush against the pool wall, her mouth opening as he plundered it like a savage in a treasure cove, taking and claiming and controlling everything he could reach. Water lapped around her as she wrapped her legs around his muscular waist, tilting her head to the side, going where he took her, following his lead as he fed on her soul.
It was sloppy and hungry and aggressive, all lips and teeth and tongue. And Zephyr had never felt as cherished, as desired, as wanted as she did right then.
They made out in the pool for long minutes, kissed and kissed and kissed. At one point, he slid aside her bikini top and squeezed her breast, and tugged her nipple until she was writhing against him. At one point, she scratched her nails down his back and rode against the hardness pressing into her core. At one point, he let her breathe as he bit her chin before diving in for another taste, like he couldn’t get enough of her, like he needed her kiss to make it through, like she was salvation for his sins.
She didn’t know how long they stayed in the pool, just kissing, dancing the oldest dance in the world with bodies that knew the steps even before they thought it, in synchronicity that made it seem like they’d been doing it for years.
The sound of barks broke their bubble.
Alpha pulled back, his chest heaving, his lips slightly swollen, the pupil in his golden eye blown as she panted, catching her breath, her heart full and body on fire, watching him. His hands flexed on her hips once, and he inhaled, letting her go. He fixed his eye patch and ducked under the water, swimming to the other side.
Zephyr watched as he heaved himself out, water sluicing down his powerful body, and went to the pool chair with the towel on it. As he wrapped the large towel around his hips, she turned to look at what had made the dogs bark. Hector stood on the deck, his face grim, waiting for her husband, the dogs standing around him. The look on his face wasn't good, and Zephyr wondered if everything was okay.
She would've gotten out of the water had she been wearing her usual swimsuit, but she'd started wearing minuscule bikinis at the house, comfortable in her body and skin as she'd never been before, not giving a thought to her buddha belly or butt cellulite or lack of thigh gap or untoned arms, not in front of Alpha, not with the way he looked at her, not with the way he made her feel around him. But she sure as hell wasn't going to get out and give Hector a view of it all.
Alpha knotted the towel around his hip as he strode to the deck, the man who’d been in the pool with her disappearing with each step, the dark underworld leader taking his place. The dogs gave him a sniff before dispersing, Bear coming to where Zephyr floated at the edge of the pool. He bent his head for a scratch and she obliged.
“You think he’ll detach again, Mr. Bear?” she asked the canine softly, rubbing his head, her eyes on her husband and his right-hand man, both of them talking seriously. The dog gave a woof.
“I hope he doesn't too.”
