Page 20 of Stranded with the Kraken
He grins, his expression feral. “The way I see it, we’ve done all those things.”
I snap my gaze up to his eyes, surprised. He brushes his nose over my temple and inhales deeply, a low rumble starting in his throat.
“If you think about it, Arielle, you’ll see that we’ve had our date,” he says. “We had pancakes and coffee this morning, didn’t we? We have something in common, which is our taste in music and our love for good food. We discovered that during our chats on the app, before you even came here.”
I close my eyes and fight off a shiver, but the evil kraken sets his lips to my ear and nibbles gently on my lobe.
“That’s stretching the truth a bit, don’t you think?” I ask, breathless.
I don’t know why I’m resisting, because my body sings in answer to his proximity, all my senses on high alert. I no longer care that this might end someday—I only want more of itnow. If Jasper hurts me, I’ll have only myself to blame because I’m too far gone to keep myself from getting attached to him.
“And you admitted that you’ve never had sex like that before.” He brings his convoluted logic to a close. “So from where I stand, we’ve satisfied all your criteria.”
I lean forward until my forehead bumps against his chest. “Will you break my heart?”
He cups my face with both palms and brings my chin up. Our gazes meet, and then he presses a tender kiss to my lips.
“No, sweetheart. You’re safe with me.”
It’s what he said last night when he promised not to let me drown in the pool, and I feel like I’m drowning now, too—except Jasper is here again, helping me keep my head above the water.
“Okay,” I whisper.
His grin is beautiful. “Yeah?” he asks.
“I might mess up,” I admit. “I’m not great at relationships.”
He pulls me in for a hug, lifting me clear off the chair and into his arms. “Neither am I. We’ll figure it out together.”
CHAPTER10
JASPER
As much as I want to scoop Arielle into my arms, carry her to bed—or alternatively, the pool—and show her just how important it is that we’re compatible at sex, I know we have to take things slowly.
So I lend her thick woolen socks and a cozy sweater and drag her back to the kitchen to make Christmas cookies with me. I wasn’t planning on celebrating this year, given that I didn’t have plans with any of my remaining family members. My mother has opted to visit her sister in Mauritius, and I never got along too well with that side of the family, so I told her to go alone, especially since she’d been hinting that there was a pretty kraken lady she wanted me to meet. I’m smart enough not to mention this fact to Arielle, but I do tell her that my mother will be overjoyed that I’ve finally found my mate.
She blushes at that. “We might have to, ah, ease my family into this supernatural thing,” she informs me. “They don’t know about witches or anything.”
I raise my eyebrows. “But you live in Clearwater. This place is a supernatural haven.”
Arielle rubs her nose, leaving a dusting of flour on her skin. “Yes, but they don’t. I moved here four years ago, and I didn’t know about you either until then. My parents are very religious.”
“Oh.” I roll out the next batch of dough with more force than necessary, tearing a hole in the soft yellow surface. “We don’t have to tell them if you think it’ll upset them.”
Arielle puts a floury hand on top of mine to stop me. “Hey, that’s not what I’m worried about.” She looks up at me, her brown eyes serious. “I don’t know how they’d react to you is all, and I don’t want you to have to defend your freaking existence. I have no idea what they’ll say, but it won’t be good. They’d probably think you’re a demon, and witches are all Satan’s handmaidens, so we’ll have to take it slowly, okay?”
She’s worried for me? Not because she thinks I’ll offend her parents? I wrap my arms around her, flour be damned, and kiss her, pressing her against the kitchen counter until we’re both panting and the scent of her arousal perfumes the air.
Then the kitchen timer beeps, reminding us to take the first batch of cookies from the oven. I barely make myself let her go, though I keep touching her, little brushes here and there as we work. I don’t have any food coloring on hand, so all our cookies get decorated in white, but Arielle declares them to be the prettiest cookies ever, especially the slightly burnt batch we drown in icing.
Then I brave the arctic temperatures outside and trudge through the drifts to the edge of the property where a cluster of tall pine trees shudders under the weight of the snow. I bring in several green boughs that fill the room with the scent of pine. Arielle takes the snowy branches from me and brushes the snow off my hair, then hangs the decorations on the mantelpiece while I set the fire in the grate.
She sighs contentedly when I draw her onto the couch and turn on the TV.
“…should stay inside if possible and shelter in place. The roads won’t get any better, folks, so we hope you got your Christmas shopping done early this year. Over to you, Jim,” the jolly news anchor is saying.
The weatherman pops onto the screen, waving his arms excitedly over a roiling white-and-gray mass on the satellite image. “The snowstorm will continue wreaking havoc on New England until at least Wednesday, bringing in more snow and temperatures in the low twenties. Our colleagues from Nova Scotia are reporting power outages, so it would be prudent for you to prepare while you can. As Walter said, roads will remain difficult to navigate.” He levels a serious stare at the camera. “Our recommendation is to shelter at home unless you absolutely must venture outside, and then you might be on your own if you get stuck, because emergency services are already reporting that they can’t cope with the number of calls they’re getting. Stay at home and stay safe.”
