Page 62 of Dare

My brows smacked together. “What are they?”

“Seahorses.”

I hesitated before squatting and examining their tails, muzzles, and S-shaped bodies. Certainly, I knew about sharks and many ocean creatures including jester fish. Yet marine biology hadn’t been my primary emphasis of study. Therefore, I hadn’t come across these creatures in books.

The fool splashed, which entertained the horses. Encouraged, she arched into the water and proceeded to play with the fauna. Paddling through the grotto, she dodged their movements as they chased after her.

The muscles of my face tightened. How I loathed her carelessness. And how I envied it—that blithe and uninhibited felicity.

Done with carousing, the female scooped liquid into the crater of her palms. Resilient hands. Resourceful fingers. The view sidetracked me to the point where I neglected to intervene, to insist that I test the water before she drank from it, which couldn’t be hygienic anyway with those seahorses taking up residence.

As she swallowed, my joints tensed. Agitated, I waited to see if the fluid had a contaminating effect. Yet her eyelids shut in contentment.

Following her lead, I sniffed the surface, then took a sip. Clean. Pure. As usual, not what I’d expected.

By the time I resurfaced from that thought, the beast had finished disrobing. Wadding to a shallow end, she wiggled her hips and peeled the chemise over her head, then dropped it with a loud splat. Standing only knee-deep now, her flesh glistened, beads riding across her collarbones. Pert breasts and dusky nipples that I’d briefly tasted. Rounded hips and a patch of dark hair shrouding her vagina.

Prominent ribs. Flat stomach.

Belatedly, the latter details snared my attention as they’d failed to do last night. Despite the mollusks and fish, she was hungry, a fact that did something unnerving to my system. I didn’t care to see her go without food, as I hadn’t cared for it in Autumn. Although Poet and Briar had been supplying the dungeon with ample fare, I’d ordered extra for the beast. No one had known this. I had threatened to sever the guards’ tongues if they spoke of it. And conveniently, the beast must have assumed the provisions had come from the jester and princess.

My retinas boiled as she doused water over her hips, arms, and legs. Unconcerned. Immodest. Amid the half-light, the beast bathed herself in front of me, stroking each curve and drenching every indentation of flesh.

I knew of Summer’s customs. Their endorsement of nudity. Their public baths. Winter offered as many luxurious sanitariums as Rhys and Giselle’s court, however our conduct was far less exhibitionist. Though, this minor infraction paled in comparison to the anarchy we’d raised while hate-fucking each other.

The fool glanced up, sensing my attention. She scowled and lifted her chin, daring me to watch. To stare not like a scientist, but as one person to another. That searing gaze challenged me to see her that way.

If she only knew. My expression remained neutral while all hell broke loose inside me. But so long as I didn’t focus on her strong fingers, I would not have a problem. By Seasons, those hands were distracting. I would not see this mad woman the way she provoked, no matter how well her body had fit to mine last night.

I was hardly reputed to be squeamish, yet inevitably I turned away, giving her privacy and consuming my own fill of the pool. As splashes resounded from her end of the cavern, I did not think about her dripping skin. I did not picture a lone bead dangling like a ripe fruit from one of her nipples. I did not envision the slickness between her thighs. While listening to the sounds of her bathing, I coped by devouring the pool’s contents like a glutton, soothing my parched tongue.

Stripping off my shirt, I washed my face and torso. Not seconds later, the noises from the woman’s side of the pool ceased.

My head swung her way. At once, her guilty pupils jumped from the span of my chest to my eyes. We locked gazes, the impact fizzing like a chemical reaction. Directness. Frankness. Despite the temperature of her stare and the havoc it wreaked to my dick, I appreciated the candor between us. It provided a refreshing break from the vapid females and males who burdened me with tedious sexual innuendos and pitiful contests of intellect.

We dunked our clothes and scrubbed them against the rocks to leach out the grime, including my calf bandage. The woman wrestled with a stubborn stain on her chemise. Frustrated, she puffed out her lower lip. From any other maiden, the scene would have been rather cute.

Well. What female liked to be called cute, a classification associated with pups. A word I had never uttered or assigned to anyone. Notwithstanding, the description ill-suited her. She was many things. Hotheaded. Dauntless. Fanciful. But not cute. Those golden irises and calamitous hands were hardly fucking cute.

After we laid our garments out to dry, I debated about my pants. Timidity wasn’t the issue. Unlike the lighter garments, it would take longer for the article to dry.

Noticing my uncertainty, the beast smirked and crossed her arms. Another dare. The nerve of her. Then again, if this woman needed a reminder that she didn’t affect me, that she didn’t count, I would oblige. Now that I’d grown confident about the water, let us see who won this round.

Tossing her an impassive look, I responded in kind. A test for a test. I stood, removed my boots, unbuckled my belt, and set my hands on the waistband.

Her lips parted. Pink burst across her cheeks.

The pants fell. Instantly she whirled, pretending to scratch her arm as my phallus sprang into view. At which point, my lips quirked. Much better.

I descended, stifling a groan as the warm fluid soothed my aching joints. The beast dunked herself moments later, and a rhythmic lapping sound accompanied my breaststrokes, both noises echoing off the walls. With every sweep of water against my flesh, I sensed her furtive glances.

Unfortunately, that caused my triumph to backfire. However involuntary, the brunt of her gaze incited a hot flood to my balls. Knowing this water licked the same places across our bodies—my cock, her cunt—injected me with adrenaline.

Shit. I needed to get a hold of myself.

The tips of my hair floated on the surface like slate blue paint. My movements scattered lambent strands of light along the crusted walls. One particular streak quivered across my companion’s wrists. I would have paid closer attention to that, but the seahorses vexed me, the bothersome clique following my trajectory.

The mirthful female perched on an underwater ledge and watched the scene. She compressed her mouth to keep from laughing. “Seems you’ve got a fan club. They like you.”

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