Waterlocked
Page 22
“Do you want some blood before dawn?” he asked.
“No, thank you.” She didn’t really have to feed more than once every two weeks or so. Terry had to drink more.
She kept watching him, suddenly aware of his presence in a way she hadn’t been in years. His body was built for strength, with muscular legs and a trim waist. Broad shoulders that would never stoop with age or lose their strength. Terry ran a quick hand over the hair he’d always kept trimmed unfashionably short. He moved quickly, efficient in every movement; his eyes darted around the room, instinctually checking for any weakness or danger. It was the way he had always been.
Her husband wasn’t made for fine rooms and tailored suits. He had a body built for violence and the mind of a conman. It was exactly those qualities that had made his sire turn him. It was part of the reason she’d chosen him as her husband. And now he was hers.
Gemma’s eyes were drawn to the curve of muscle where his neck met his shoulder.
“Have you ever shared blood with anyone, Terry?”
He froze, his back to her. “No.”
“Oh.”
He paused. “Have you?”
“I…” She had dreamed about sharing that bond with her human husband, but it hadn't been possible. And she had taken his vein, but not often. He hadn’t enjoyed it. William had never been totally at ease with the creature she was. “No,” she said. “I haven’t.”
A heavy silence lay between them. He still had his back to her, tension evident in his shoulders.
“You know I’d never deny you anything in my power to give you, Gemma,” he said in a low voice. “But if you want something, you’ll have to ask. I’m done offering.”
Her fangs ran down when she heard his heart thump. He wanted her to bite him, wanted that intimacy between them. Her skin prickled in awareness, and Gemma realized she wanted him to bite her, too. She wanted it so badly her fangs ached in her mouth.
Too much! Her mind rebelled.
She rose and went to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind, reveling the smooth expanse of his back under her mouth. She kissed along his spine as her hands splayed along his belly. For once, she wanted to be slow. She wanted to appreciate each moment with him. Gemma pressed her ear to his back, listening to the slow thump of his excited heart as his hands covered hers, holding her close.
“My Gemma,” he whispered.
Your Gemma.
She could give him that. Maybe she was no longer capable of love. She probably didn’t deserve her husband's. But if Terry wanted her, she could be his.
His energy reached out to the water that dotted her skin, fluttering over her body with tiny vibrations that caused her to gasp in pleasure. His amnis licked at her though not a single muscle flinched. Gemma closed her eyes and drunk it in. It was familiar and new all at once. The feel of his body under her hands. The same smell in her nose. The taste of his skin. The overwhelming raw energy of their touch ignited every nerve in her body.
For over fifteen years they had been lovers, and it had always been this way. Terry was her own familiar mystery. Each time she thought she had the puzzle solved, new pieces were thrown at her. She opened her eyes and saw the luxurious linens he’d brought onto the boat for her. The Egyptian cotton towels in the chest. The low whir of the heater that cut the natural chill of the water. For her.
“My husband takes good care of me,” she murmured.
She heard him give a low laugh. “He’d hear it if he didn’t.”
Gemma ducked under his arm and moved in front of him, drawing him down to the bed, covering herself with the solid feel of his body over hers. She pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. “I don’t need to be taken care of,” she murmured against his lips. “But I find that I do enjoy it.”
The corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked smile. “Good. I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”
She gently pushed his shoulders back and rolled on top, kissing down his chest as she slid onto him. He arched up in pleasure, groaning out her name. Gemma closed her eyes and focused on the familiar push and pull of their bodies together, memorizing his breath, pressing his hands closer when they stroked over her favorite spots.
Gemma tortured them both with slow pleasure, touching the edge over and over, only to pull back and focus on her lover until he grew mad with her teasing. Finally losing patience, Terry sat up, grabbing the hair at the nape of her neck and pulling her in for a bruising kiss as he took control.
“My turn, luv.”
Her breath caught as he drove them harder. He tugged her hair again, forcing her eyes to his.
“I want to see you.”
“Terry…”
“Gemma.” He breathed out her name like a prayer and she felt her body coiling with tension, seconds away from breaking free. She couldn’t take her eyes from him. His mouth was set in a stubborn line as he drove her to the edge of release. Closer. Closer… Suddenly, his lips softened as he whispered, “I love you, Gemma.”
She shattered.
Chapter Seven
“Terry.” He was groggy from his day rest when he heard her voice. “Terry.”
He reached for her instinctively, only to feel her grab his wrist and bend it back. He frowned, his eyes still closed.
“Terry.” Her quiet voice was a little more urgent.
“Early, luv,” he mumbled.
“I knew this was going to be a problem with a younger man.”
“No, thank you.” She didn’t really have to feed more than once every two weeks or so. Terry had to drink more.
She kept watching him, suddenly aware of his presence in a way she hadn’t been in years. His body was built for strength, with muscular legs and a trim waist. Broad shoulders that would never stoop with age or lose their strength. Terry ran a quick hand over the hair he’d always kept trimmed unfashionably short. He moved quickly, efficient in every movement; his eyes darted around the room, instinctually checking for any weakness or danger. It was the way he had always been.
Her husband wasn’t made for fine rooms and tailored suits. He had a body built for violence and the mind of a conman. It was exactly those qualities that had made his sire turn him. It was part of the reason she’d chosen him as her husband. And now he was hers.
Gemma’s eyes were drawn to the curve of muscle where his neck met his shoulder.
“Have you ever shared blood with anyone, Terry?”
He froze, his back to her. “No.”
“Oh.”
He paused. “Have you?”
“I…” She had dreamed about sharing that bond with her human husband, but it hadn't been possible. And she had taken his vein, but not often. He hadn’t enjoyed it. William had never been totally at ease with the creature she was. “No,” she said. “I haven’t.”
A heavy silence lay between them. He still had his back to her, tension evident in his shoulders.
“You know I’d never deny you anything in my power to give you, Gemma,” he said in a low voice. “But if you want something, you’ll have to ask. I’m done offering.”
Her fangs ran down when she heard his heart thump. He wanted her to bite him, wanted that intimacy between them. Her skin prickled in awareness, and Gemma realized she wanted him to bite her, too. She wanted it so badly her fangs ached in her mouth.
Too much! Her mind rebelled.
She rose and went to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind, reveling the smooth expanse of his back under her mouth. She kissed along his spine as her hands splayed along his belly. For once, she wanted to be slow. She wanted to appreciate each moment with him. Gemma pressed her ear to his back, listening to the slow thump of his excited heart as his hands covered hers, holding her close.
“My Gemma,” he whispered.
Your Gemma.
She could give him that. Maybe she was no longer capable of love. She probably didn’t deserve her husband's. But if Terry wanted her, she could be his.
His energy reached out to the water that dotted her skin, fluttering over her body with tiny vibrations that caused her to gasp in pleasure. His amnis licked at her though not a single muscle flinched. Gemma closed her eyes and drunk it in. It was familiar and new all at once. The feel of his body under her hands. The same smell in her nose. The taste of his skin. The overwhelming raw energy of their touch ignited every nerve in her body.
For over fifteen years they had been lovers, and it had always been this way. Terry was her own familiar mystery. Each time she thought she had the puzzle solved, new pieces were thrown at her. She opened her eyes and saw the luxurious linens he’d brought onto the boat for her. The Egyptian cotton towels in the chest. The low whir of the heater that cut the natural chill of the water. For her.
“My husband takes good care of me,” she murmured.
She heard him give a low laugh. “He’d hear it if he didn’t.”
Gemma ducked under his arm and moved in front of him, drawing him down to the bed, covering herself with the solid feel of his body over hers. She pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. “I don’t need to be taken care of,” she murmured against his lips. “But I find that I do enjoy it.”
The corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked smile. “Good. I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”
She gently pushed his shoulders back and rolled on top, kissing down his chest as she slid onto him. He arched up in pleasure, groaning out her name. Gemma closed her eyes and focused on the familiar push and pull of their bodies together, memorizing his breath, pressing his hands closer when they stroked over her favorite spots.
Gemma tortured them both with slow pleasure, touching the edge over and over, only to pull back and focus on her lover until he grew mad with her teasing. Finally losing patience, Terry sat up, grabbing the hair at the nape of her neck and pulling her in for a bruising kiss as he took control.
“My turn, luv.”
Her breath caught as he drove them harder. He tugged her hair again, forcing her eyes to his.
“I want to see you.”
“Terry…”
“Gemma.” He breathed out her name like a prayer and she felt her body coiling with tension, seconds away from breaking free. She couldn’t take her eyes from him. His mouth was set in a stubborn line as he drove her to the edge of release. Closer. Closer… Suddenly, his lips softened as he whispered, “I love you, Gemma.”
She shattered.
Chapter Seven
“Terry.” He was groggy from his day rest when he heard her voice. “Terry.”
He reached for her instinctively, only to feel her grab his wrist and bend it back. He frowned, his eyes still closed.
“Terry.” Her quiet voice was a little more urgent.
“Early, luv,” he mumbled.
“I knew this was going to be a problem with a younger man.”
