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Chapter Six
“I'll try anything once, twice if I like it, three times to make sure.”
—Mae West
For the first time in Divina’s life, she was completely unaware of how she looked.
This was surely a good thing. One of those uncomfortable memories we tended to block from our minds and pretend never happened.
A distant, out-of-body part of herself might recall later that her mouth had dropped unattractively open, wide enough to catch flies. Her eyes were rounded into saucers, and not the come-hither innocent ingenue kind that she was a master at affecting. Her expression would likely scare a man rather than pull him in, because she was certain her face was dark with a sudden explosion of lava-hot lust, and drool might have trickled from the corner of her mouth.
All that was to say: it’s a cold day in Hades when the self-possessed, sexiest bombshell of dragonkind was reduced to a puddle of wanton goo as she beheld the one male across eternity that cranked her primitive passions more than any other.
Far,farbeyond any other male she’d ever known.
Oh, she was so screwed.
(She hoped).
The good news was, he likely couldn’t tell she was drooling copiously because they were both wet from the lake, water droplets beading and running down their skin.
Theirnakedskin.
At least, as far as the centaur before her was concerned.
Speaking of which, her eyes stayed glued to one particular starlit drop as it began its meticulous downward journey from his temple.
First, it skimmed the perfect planes of the most masculine face she’d ever seen.
In a way, it reminded her of how he looked as a stallion. Not to say that he had a horse face, not at all. Just that…
His face was all sharp angles and lean lines, slightly longish if one was a stickler for proportions (which she was). But somehow, the shape of his face was just right for the features it contained—
Narrow and long, exotically shaped eyes that glinted with a hint of violet, though the night sky made them seem obsidian. Framed by the thickest, plushest, feathery looking lashes that she’d never before seen on another person.
High, cutting cheekbones with defined hollows beneath. Punctuated by a long, narrow nose that led to a wide, generous mouth. No facial hair. Not even a hint of stubble.
Now, Divina had always thought she was a woman who preferred hair on men—chest hair, beards, treasure trails…
Not monkeys, mind you. And definitely not bears. But enough to declare:here stands a MAN. The manlier the better. The taller, bigger, and harder, the better. She just loved wrapping her soft curves around all that unyielding hardness.
But somehow, this centaur’s hairlessness, at least in terms of body hair, was perfect. Just like everything else about him.
Besides, he had plenty of hair on his head. Long, straight, silky cascades that flowed down his shoulders and back, smooth and glistening now that it was slicked with water.
Absentmindedly, she licked her lips as her eyes homed in on the meandering droplet of water again, where it slowly slid from his sharp jawline to his long, corded neck, skipping lovingly over the bulge of his Adam’s apple to the notch of his collarbone.
Gods! Those shoulders!
Wide and rounded with sleek muscle. The pronounced planes of his chest and abdomen made her mouth go dry, even though it had flooded with saliva just moments before.
There were so many ridges. So many intriguing hollows and valleys. Like the deep groove that bisected his pecs. The carved channels around each and every ab. The shallow indentation of his navel. The cut lines of his obliques that, were he a man, would point like arrows to his—
Divina blinked rapidly as the tantalizing droplet of water finally joined its brethren in the lake, as the surface of the water lapped at the edge of where those obliques melded with the lower portion of his body that was submerged.
She couldn’t see him, but she knew what was beneath the water. The body of a stallion.
He was not a man, or a horse. But both.
