Page 52 of Enchantment of Silver and Sea
“Okay, fine,” I said. “Because you want to fuck me? Because you want to add ‘sheltered city girl from Cyllene’ to your list of conquests?”
The silver in Kieran’s eyes flashed, becoming an icy white. “Wrong.”
It should have been the right answer, but it was like a physical blow.
Was he lying to save face? Or in all the moments we had shared where it felt like there was this spark, was that only on my end? Was I fooling myself into thinking he even found me attractive to begin with?
The avalanche gave way then, and there was no clawing back the words as they spilled from me.
“You know what I don’t get then? Why you always mess with me. One minute you’re nice to me, the next minute it’s like there’s some inside joke that I’m not in on. I don’t know if I’m just a source of entertainment to you, or if you really were hoping I could be another one of your conquests and you’re just covering your ass now. But I don’t think it’s funny. I don’t like being toyed with, and I don’t want to be just another woman you’ve slept with. Honestly, I wish you would just leave me the fuck alone.”
The only sound then was the lapping waves.
I kept my eyes trained on one random star, steeling myself against the lump in my throat. There was a shuffling sound next to me, and my heart sank. I waited to hear his footfalls receding in the sand.
“Maila.”
I turned. His face was inches from mine.
“Is that how you really feel? Everything you just said. Is that what you really think of me?” His expression was unreadable.Then just for a moment, so quick that I almost missed it, something like hurt flashed across his features. It was there and gone in an instant.
“I don’t know,” I said softly. Then, “No.”
The breeze ruffled Kieran’s hair and blew a few loose strands of my own across my cheek. I couldn’t have said how or why, but there was a sudden weight to the space between us. A charge to the air like just before a storm. His eyes darkened, and the intensity in them made my body burn again. But not from anger or the sunburn or even that sickly knot in my gut. It was something uncomfortable and pleasurable all at once.
Time seemed to slow.
Kieran gently placed his fingers on my face, tilting my chin upward. And then everything around us—the lapping of the waves, the mild breeze, even the stunning night sky—seemed to cease to be, as he pressed his lips to mine.
His lips were warm and soft. He brushed his thumb across my cheek gently, as if testing my reaction. I found myself extending my own hand, placing it on his arm. I ran my fingertips along the curve of his bicep, then his shoulder over his shirt, traveling upwards. My hand finally came to rest on the back of his neck, and when it did, he slipped his tongue into my mouth.
He tasted like the salt from the ocean, and like something unplaceable but distinctly him.
Somewhere in my mind, I questioned if I was kissing him the way he liked. If he was feeling everything that I was feeling. But my worries floated away as something stronger took their place. Something that felt like the moment when Larimar hadpulled me above the surface, and I took that first lungful of air that I had so desperately needed.
My hand still on Kieran’s neck, I brushed my fingertips up and down, feeling the warmth of his skin and then the softness of his hair. I lightly twisted a few strands around my fingers.
At the movement, Kieran shifted so that his body was against mine, making my mind turn hazy. With some effort, he extracted his lips from mine. But only to press them against my neck, trailing his tongue from my clavicle up to my jawline.
The sensation was overwhelming.
My head rolled against his, my lips grazing his cheek. Some part of me was vaguely aware that I was breathing hard in his ear. Kieran made a rumbling noise in his throat. Feeling encouraged by the sound, I pressed my lips to the spot just behind his ear.
He stilled. Then in one swift movement, he rolled and lowered us, so we were laying in the sand, his weight on me fully. “Maila,” he breathed, his fingers skimming the curve of my breast. It took me a second to realize he was asking for permission, practically vibrating with restraint.
“Yes,” I murmured, and no sooner were the words out of my mouth than he was cupping my breasts, feeling me with his hands and then with his mouth. There was something practiced and skilled in each movement, but also something messy and desperate and even a little greedy.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since you walked out in that fucking see-through nightgown,” he growled against my skin. Then, almost involuntarily, he ground his hips against mine.
In that moment, three things happened.
The first was that when his hips rolled into mine, I got physical confirmation that he was enjoying this as much as I was.
The second was that the friction of him against me, even with several layers of clothing between us, sent a spear of pleasure through me that had every nerve standing on end.
And then the third.
“Kieran.” His name escaped my lips before I could stop it. It was a moan, soft and low and a harbinger of what lay ahead of us. What I suddenly needed from him more than I needed air.
