Page 37 of Hook, Line, and Tentacle
“Hmm?”
I lean back, just enough to meet his eyes. They glow faintly even in the low light. That’s different too. When we first met, I thought his eyes were gray—but more often than not, now, they’re closer to violet, and they glow.
He likes to tell me it’s because I light him up inside.
I like to tell him he’s a sap, but I don’t mind it really.
I smooth my hands over his chest. “Remember that thing I mentioned a while back?”
His brow lifts, and a slow smirk spreads across his face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, love.”
“I’ve been patient.”
His expression changes slightly. It’s subtle, but I see it. He knows exactly what I’m getting at. One of his tentacles curls possessively around my waist, curving my spine so my stomach presses to his.
“You have,” he says slowly. “Suspiciously so.”
“You never saidno,” I say diplomatically.
He hums noncommittally. “That… is also true.”
My hand glides down the front of his chest, down to the warm curve of his stomach. He’s never been more beautiful. “I want to fuck you.”
His body stills, his eyes flash, the tentacle tracing my spine freezes—but his cock jerks in his pants, which is how I know I’ve got him.
Kill shot.
“I want to use one of your tentacles.” I slide my hand down to palm him through the fabric.
Cal hisses, and his eyes snap up to meet mine, something ravenous in his gaze.
“You’ve thought about it,” I whisper, leaning in to brush my noseagainst his. “Haven’t you?”
I’m speculating, but after a beat, he nods. Just once, a tight movement, but a nod, nonetheless.
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Have you fantasized about it?”
Another pause, then a low groan. “Yes.”
I kiss him slow and deep, tilting his head so he opens for me. My hips roll, just enough to earn another groan as I roll the soft edge of my tongue over his.
“Let me,” I whisper against his mouth. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”
“You always make me feel good.” His arms tighten around me, and a tentacle winds down my wrist. It slips into my palm, guiding my hand lower. Down over the aching swell of his cock. Cal’s breath stutters, hips lifting to chase the friction, but I don’t linger there.
“You fantasized about it.” My fingers trace light, aimless circles over the soft slope above his navel. “Was that… before me or after?”
He lets out a shaky hum, glancing over my shoulder, as if whatever is on the TV is suddenly very, very interesting. “Does it matter?”
I drag my nose along the line of his jaw. “I think it does.”
The tentacle curled around my waist gives a defensive little flick, then slides lower. It’s a nervous gesture I’ve come to recognize from him. It’s particularly prominent when he’s being evasive.
“After.”
The heat that pulses through me at that admission is sharp and dark andlow, pooling in my belly, something writhing and primal. “So, you started thinking about itbecauseof me.”
Cal groans. “Neviah.”
