Page 31 of Cerban
“Not enough,” he murmured, kissing down the side of my throat. “But I’ll make every moment count.”
I arched into him, the last of my defences falling away. The scent of the sea, the sound of his breath, the weight of his hands on my hips – it was all-consuming. For once I wasn’t thinking about rules or tests or Pam or the IA. Just us. Just now.
He lifted me easily, carrying me toward the bed, his mouth never leaving mine. When he laid me down, his eyes were dark and bright all at once, like deep water catching the sun. “Maelis,” he said again, as if my name was an oath. “Mine.”
“Yours,” I whispered back, pulling him down to me.
The dim light turned the beads of water on his skin into scattered jewels. I reached up and touched one, letting it roll down my fingertip. He watched me do it, breathing hard, as though that tiny gesture was the most intimate thing in the universe.
“I keep thinking this isn’t real,” I whispered.
His thumb brushed over my lower lip. “It is,” he said. “You’re real. We are.”
He bent down, kissing me again, slower this time. Everything about him was careful, reverent. The weight of his body pressed into mine, solid and warm, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through his chest.
My fingers slid along his shoulder blades to where skin turned into algae-like sheets. Greenskin, he'd called it. Gingerly, I traced it, admiring just how smooth and silky it felt.
A low sound rumbled in his throat – not a word, not quite a growl, but something that made heat bloom deep in my stomach. I drew another slow line across his chest. The movement of his greenskin followed me, shimmering faintly in the half-light.
“Maelis…” His voice was rough, strained. “You have no idea what that does to me.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing unevenly. “You’re touching more than skin,” he said. “That’s part of me… everything I feel moves through it. And if I didn't know already that you're my mate, the reaction of my greenskin would tell me for sure.”
I rose to meet him, our mouths finding each other again, slower and deeper this time. The warmth of his body surrounded me, the rhythm of his breathing matching my own.
His lips left mine only to blaze a path lower, across my jaw, down the line of my throat. Each kiss made me arch, made my pulse pound harder against his mouth. His hands explored me slowly, reverently, as though memorising every inch of bare skin.
I trembled when his mouth reached the swell of my breast. He paused, looking up, giving me the chance to stop him. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was already lost to the feeling of him – the heat of his breath, the subtle rasp of his greenskin against my ribs, the way his touch asked for nothing but made me want to give everything.
When his lips finally closed around my nipple, I almost stopped breathing. His tongue circled slowly, deliberately, and something low and helpless escaped my throat.
I curled my fingers into his hair – soft and damp from the sea – and held him close. His mouth was warm, his touch reverent, like I was the first and only woman he’d ever worshipped.
“Cerban…” I whispered, the word barely sound, only need.
He hummed in response, the vibration going straight through me. His greenskin responded to my rising heartbeat, the strands moving like sea-grass in a current, brushing against me as though echoing his intent.
He lingered there, his mouth closing again around my puckered nipple with aching slowness. His tongue teased in lazy circles, coaxing more gasps from my lips, until my back arched of its own accord.
Pleasure coiled low in my belly, sharp and golden. I’d never been touched like this before – not with such focus, such single-minded reverence.
His other hand slid up to cup my other breast, thumb brushing across the sensitive peak as his mouth continued its unhurried worship. I couldn’t stay still. My hips shifted restlessly beneath him, my breath shallow and fast.
“Please,” I whispered. I wasn’t even sure what I was asking for – more? Less? To stop before I shattered?
He lifted his head, just long enough to look me in the eye. “Tell me what you need,” he murmured, voice low and rough as distant surf.
“You,” I said. “All of you.”
He smiled – all warmth and hunger mixed with sharp teeth – and then he kissed the centre of my chest, just above my pounding heart, before beginning his slow descent.
His mouth moved lower, over the dip of my sternum, along my ribs. The feel of his greenskin brushing my stomach – those living strands shifting with my every breath – made me tremble all over again.
He paused at the waistband of my panties, the barest whisper of his breath making me dizzy. His hands curled around my hips, grounding me as the world tilted. I was ready to come, and he hadn't even touched me down there yet. No man had ever had this effect on me.
He hovered at the edge of my panties, his breath warm against the thin fabric. One of his hands slid down to stroke my hip, the other splaying across my stomach to keep me grounded.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice a tremor of restraint. “Or tell me to go on.”
