Page 35 of Kiss for My Kraken
She became aware of his body’s reaction to their activities—the tautness of his muscles, the darkened hue of his skin, the subtle vibration that seemed to run through his tentacles.
“What about you?” she asked softly, her hand sliding down his chest.
He caught her wrist gently. “This was for you,” he said. “There will be time.”
Time.She liked the sound of that, nestling into his arms as the shadows lengthened around them.
“I should get back,” she said finally. “I have an early shift tomorrow.”
She suspected he was about to object, but then he nodded. Perhaps he realized that they both needed some time to think.
The trip back across the water was quiet, both of them lost in thought. He swam alongside the boat, occasionally glancing up at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. As they approached her dock, the last rays of sunset gilded the water in copper and gold.
He secured the boat, then helped her onto the dock with careful hands. Ozzie trotted off immediately, but they remained facing each other in the gathering twilight, neither willing to be the first to say goodbye.
“Thank you,” she said finally. “For today. For sharing your world with me.”
He gave her a slow and sweet smile. “Thank you for wanting to be part of it, little minnow.”
He leaned forward, kissing her with surprising tenderness given the passion they’d shared earlier. She melted into his kiss and when they finally parted, a sudden, startling realization swept over her.
I love him.
The knowledge should have terrified her. Instead, it settled in her chest like a warm ember, glowing with a steady heat that spread to every part of her. She wasn’t ready to say it aloud—not yet—but she held the knowledge close.
“Tomorrow?” she asked, and he nodded.
“Tomorrow.”
With one last lingering look, he slipped beneath the surface, disappearing into the deepening shadows of the river. She watched the ripples fade, her body still humming with the echo of his touch, and smiled into the darkness.
CHAPTER 16
Sam remained submerged in the river long after Nina disappeared into her cabin. The water enveloped him, familiar and comforting, yet somehow changed—as if her presence had altered even this constant in his life. He closed his eyes, letting the current wash over him, carrying her taste away while the memory of her touch remained branded on his skin.
The sensation of her exploring fingers still lingered on his tentacles. Her fearlessness had stunned him. Where he’d expected hesitation, even revulsion, he’d found only curiosity and desire. The trust she’d shown by stepping into his element, allowing him to envelop her completely…
His body responded again to the memory, a deep thrumming sensation pulsing through his tentacles as his mating arm pushed insistently against his sheath. He’d held back, focused entirely on her pleasure, unwilling to overwhelm her with the full reality of his desire. But gods, how he’d wanted more.
He surfaced, drawing in a deep breath of night air. Stars had emerged, reflecting on the river’s surface in fractured patterns oflight. He floated on his back, staring upward, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling through him.
He was bonded to her now—completely, irrevocably. The instinct ran deeper than conscious thought, as natural and inevitable as the tide. His kind mated for life, and while he’d never experienced the bond before, he recognized it with absolute certainty. Nina was his. And he was hers, whether she fully understood that yet or not.
He swam slowly back to his island, then hesitated when he reached the shore, reluctant to leave the river’s embrace. On land, even in his more humanoid form, he felt less himself—awkward, constrained, vulnerable.
Yet Nina lived on land. If he wanted more of her—all of her—he would need to venture further from the water’s safety than he had in years.
The thought sent a cold tremor through him, at odds with the heat of his desire. Could he do it? After years of seclusion, could he bear the exposure, the risk, the scrutiny?
Sleep eluded him that night. He drifted between the open hatch and the dry portions of his cabin, restless and aching. Every corner held some reminder of Nina—the place she’d stood admiring his books, the chair where she’d eaten dinner, the deck where she’d boldly shed her dress. He wanted her here, now, always.
The intensity of that desire frightened him. He had existed alone for so long, the solitude a shield against the rejection and fear his true nature inevitably provoked. Even in Fairhaven Falls, where Others lived openly, he had kept to himself, emerging only for necessities, maintaining a careful distance.
Nina had shattered that distance with disarming ease.
As dawn approached, he slipped back into the river, seeking the clarity that always came with immersion. The cool water soothed his heated thoughts, but couldn’t erase the fundamental truth: being apart from her hurt now, a physical ache unlike anything he’d experienced.
He consoled himself with the certainty that she would return to him. But was that enough? These brief encounters, stolen moments between her shifts at the tavern, nighttime visits when the rest of the world couldn’t see them together?
