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Chapter 26
He tellsme to close my eyes, which I don’t love, considering the fact that I’m just past the point in the ocean where my feet can touch the bottom. But I do it, because he’s starting to look a little green, and I don’t want to make things worse.
I don’t know why, but the man has some sort of complex about his body. And while I’m sure it’s something I shouldn’t pry about, I just don’t know how many more times I can have sex with a fully clothed man and not feel like a prostitute.
The water ripples, pulsing against my skin, and I hear when Kal enters it, hissing as if it’s cooler than he was expecting.
“What?” I say, my vision dark from behind closed lids. “God of the Underworld can’t handle a little cold?”
Whooping with surprise as his arms glide around my waist, my eyes fly open, hands searching for something to steady the top half of my body with. My fingers clutch at his shoulders, reveling in the thick muscle beneath his skin, and then I pause, feeling pockets of uniquely rough, yet soft flesh.
The same spots graze my stomach as I press into him, and my heart sinks low in my chest, thumping hard between us.
Meeting his gaze as my fingers continue their exploration, I do my best not to look down, sure that whatever I find there will humanize him. That I won’t be able to resist the brokenness, and my attraction will let loose and morph into something real.
Something that can hurt me.
Sadness burns the back of my throat as I recognize the puckered skin, counting eight spots on his right shoulder, then five on the left. I slide my palms in, cupping the base of his neck, absorbing the force of his swallow.
His eyes betray nothing—no vulnerability, no awareness, no shame. They stare at me blankly, a practiced ambivalence reflecting back, even though I can tell by the way the tendons in his throat tense up that he doesn’t like any of this.
“I’m no god,” he says finally, releasing a stilted breath. His fingers dig into my ass, holding me upright, and I feel his cock bob against me, seeking entrance without him even guiding it. “Just an unlucky soul, who somehow has managed to cheat death over a hundred times.”
Taking a chance, I drop my chin, coasting my gaze over his slick, sun-soaked skin. For the most part, it’s smooth and bronzed, the tone apparently natural given his propensity for the indoors.
But the larger planes are marred, decorated by shiny divots that shimmer in the light reflecting off the water. Some are smaller than others, some long and wide, scattered in various places along his entire torso.
There’s a particularly lengthy one stretching over his rib cage, and I tentatively drop my hand to the mark, smoothing my thumb over it. It’s gnarly, mangled and a little less pink than the others, bubbling up past the surface of his skin.
He sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, and I freeze, eyes widening. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry. Did that hurt?”
Adjusting his hold on my ass, Kal chuckles, hoisting me up higher on his waist. My pussy pulses where our skin meets, the onslaught of immediate sensation making me dizzy.
“It’s not a pleasant feeling,” he says, his mouth so close to mine it’s distracting. “Not really painful, but scars tend to be a lot more sensitive than normal skin.” He shifts, dropping one hand to the crack of my ass while the other winds beneath my thigh, sweeping over the K there. “The nerve endings regenerate, and the keloid scars like that are usually the worst because of all the extra collagen.”
Slowly, I drift my hand over the site, watching his face for signs of distress. “What happened?”
He smirks. “Which time? Hit men don’t always get away with things, you know.”
I hold my breath for a moment, trying to imprint the feel of the rough edges into my palm, reconciling them with the stoic figure holding me. “With this one?”
Something cold passes over his face, making me shiver, and he starts to move deeper in the water; I’m not sure how long before he loses his footing, but it feels like we’re edging dangerously close here.
A metaphor, if ever there was one.
“I was betrayed,” he says softly, his right hand coming up, twisting in my hair. “And I vowed not to ever let anyone close enough to me to hurt me like that again.”
It feels like an admission, though I’m not exactly sure of what. A promise of sorts, the kind whispered against skin, spoken to your soul. It breaches mine, uncertain as it brushes the surface, and I lean in, ghosting my lips over his when I speak.
“You’re not unlucky,” I whisper, afraid of shattering the bubble that’s risen up around us, my heart beating so fast that it’s making me sick.
Flexing his fingers in my roots, he exhales, the cool mint of his breath rolling down my chin. “I certainly don’t feel like I am right now.”
* * *
Insanity.
That has to be what drives me to return to the Flaming Chariot, as if I haven’t had enough issues around there as it is.
