Page 82 of Siren Problems
His hips stutter. A rare crack in that infuriating control. “Careful, scholar. Myths bite.”
“Prove it.”
He shifts abruptly, sitting back on his heels with me still impaled on his cock. The new angle steals my breath—every thrust grazing that molten spot inside. His hand slips between us, fingers finding my clit with merciless precision. “This what you wanted? To ride me like your personal tempest?”
I clutch his shoulders, the muscles there taut as ship ropes. “Wanted you unhinged. Wantedthis.” I roll my hips, taking him deeper, and his groan vibrates against my throat where he kisses me.
His voice drops to a wrecked rasp. “Could drown in you. Worse ways to die.”
The admission cracks something open in my chest. I fist his hair, tugging his forehead against mine. Our breaths fuse, salt and heat.
He surges up, capturing my mouth as his thrusts turn erratic. Shattered control. I drink the sound he makes when I come—a low, guttural thing, like waves breaking on rocks. He follows me over the edge, his release flooding warm as he murmurs my name like a prayer against my sweating skin.
We collapse sideways, tangled in damp limbs. Calder traces the shell of my ear, his touch softer now. “Still cold, little storm?”
I bite his wrist, grinning at his flinch. “Getting there. Might need another demonstration.”
His laugh is rough velvet. “Greedy.”
“Learned from the best.”
Outside, the sea roars its approval.
The storm’s fury quiets to a murmur beyond the windows, our breaths syncing to the rhythm of receding rain. Calder’s arm stays locked around my waist, our skin still fused with sweat and seawater. His chest rises and falls beneath my cheek in slow, deliberate waves—like he’s charting each second before I ruin it.
“I’m not leaving Lowtide.”
His fingers tense against my hipbone. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t stay?” I press my palm flat over that frozen scar, willing warmth into him. “You don’t get to martyr yourself into another three centuries of brooding. I’mhere.”
He shifts, his exhale shuddering as he rolls to face me. Moonlight carves the hollows of his throat, the tension in his jaw.
I knot my legs with his, sealing the last sliver of space. “I’m not your drowned sailors, Calder. I’m not some passing storm you outwait. I’m staying. You’ll just have to endure me.”
His lids lower, shadows pooling beneath them. “You’ll grow old. Brittle. I’ll watch you?—”
“And I’ll make you savor every damn wrinkle.” My thumb finds the pulse at his wrist, furious and stuttering. “You didn’t save those humans just to live like a ghost. Let me be selfish for both of us.”
A beat. Saltwater drips from his hair onto my shoulder, each drop a ticking threat. When his mouth crashes into mine, it’s not hunger—it’s surrender. His hands frame my face like I’m something salvaged from a shipwreck, precious and salt-crusted.
“Say it again.”
“I’m staying.”
He ghosts his lips along my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. Each touch a vow. “Even when the bluffs erode?”
“I’ll learn to breathe underwater.”
His laugh is raw, unfiltered—a sound I’ve never heard. “Stubborn creature.”
“Learned from the best.” I lay my forehead against his, our noses brushing. “We’ll map every ley line. Crack your curse. Burn the sea itself if we have to.”
His fingers slide into my hair, tightening. “And if we fail?”
“Then we drown together.”
He stills. The old house creaks, tide pooling around our ankles through cracked floorboards. When he speaks, the words fray at the edges. “I’ve forgotten how to want things that last.”
