suggested he go for a run while I foraged for food. The ease with which the domestic simplicity of our arrangement fell into place is bittersweet. I know our arrangement is neither simple nor secure. While I should be thinking with my head, the heart wants what the heart wants. And I’m tired of being denied. So very tired.
My cell phone chimes. There’s a new text message from an unknown number:
K? Kallistos? How the hell did he get my number?
Of course, Liz.
The shower is running overhead. My eyes drift to the ceiling.
The phone chimes again. Another message:
This has to be Liz’s doing. Probably with the best of intentions. I know what I might be interrupting, but I dial anyway.
“You gave him my number?”
“Who?” Liz’s breathless voice and a groan from Evan in the background confirm my suspicions.
Too bad. “Kallistos! He’s texting me.”
“That’s why you called me?”
“How could you give him my number?” I ask.
“It was for your own good,” Liz replies. “You know my views on rebound sex. Nothing heals a broken heart faster.”
“My heart is not broken.”
“Yet.”
“Call him off, Liz. I mean it.”
“You’ve met Kallistos. I couldn’t call him off if I wanted to. He gets what he goes after.”
“Not this time.” I disconnect before she has a chance to argue. Immediately my cell phone rings and the call indicator shows it’s Liz. I power off the phone and try to push my anger aside. I understand what Liz is trying to do. But no one ever really knows what the future will hold. This curse may seem eternal, but it’s not. It can’t be. Someday, it will be lifted. Zack and I may not have a promising future. But we are here. This minute. Together.
And right now Zack is still in the shower.
Suddenly I’m no longer feeling hungry. What I’m feeling is very, very dirty.
I pop the cartons of food in a warming oven and race up the stairs to join him.
The bathroom door is cracked open. Steam from the shower billows out into the bedroom, warm, wet, and inviting. The familiar scent of citrus and spice that I’m beginning to associate with Zack hangs in the air. I want to wrap myself in it, drown in it, drown in him. And for the next few hours, I will.
I push the door open with my arm and step inside. He must have heard me coming. He’s waiting for me.
“Took you long enough to get up here.”
He’s inside the shower stall, heat rising around him. His hair is slicked straight back. His hands grip the top of the glass door, making his biceps bulge. He’s hard and ready.
I let my eyes drift over his body, appreciating every spectacular inch. “Been thinking about me?” I ask him.
He glances down at his erection. “Can’t seem to stop.”
“Food’s in the oven,” I tell him, moving closer until only the glass separates us.
“It’s not food I’m hungry for at the moment.”
I see the predator in his eyes. His naked desire sends a chill up my spine.
“I’ve missed you,” he says.
The confession makes me smile. “We practically spent the entire day together.”
“Wearing far too many clothes.”
Before our walk on the beach, I’d stopped by the house to exchange my work clothes for something more comfortable, a white peasant blouse, my most comfortable blue jeans, and a pair of brown leather sandals.
I reach back and pull the band from my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders. “Maybe I should take some of these off?”
“Unless you want them to get wet.”
The sandals are already gone. The jeans and blouse come off next, leaving only the white lace bra and panties.
“God, I could just eat you up,” Zack growls, his voice rough with desire. He reaches down with one hand and strokes himself from tip to base and back up again. I remember the feel of him, the taste of him.
“Would you like me to do that for you?” I unfasten the back of my bra, then turn around, slip off the straps, and let it fall onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
“What I want you to do is get your ass in here.”
I hear the shower door open behind me, feel a rush of heat and moisture roll out. He’s anxious. I can tell. Yet I take my time. This is the fun part, the buildup, the seduction. I pull down my panties slowly, with a sway of my hips. As they fall to my ankles, Zack scoops me up. One arm is wrapped around my waist, his hand cupping the opposite breast. His other reaches forward, his palm covers my sex, his fingers deftly separate and slide inside.
“Tell me you want me,” Zack murmurs.
I push back against him, providing friction where he needs it the most. The words tumble out. “I want you. Desperately. Completely. Recklessly.” I don’t think I’ve ever spoken with such honesty to a man.
In the blink of an eye we’re in the shower. The speed at which he’s moved leaves me breathless. I’m pinned facing the side wall, hands above my head, feet spread apart. I feel his breath on my back between my shoulders, feel the low rumble of a growl forming in his chest and belly. Teeth graze my neck. I freeze. The beast is close to the surface. I feel it.
“Zack?” I hear a tinge of panic in my voice.
“Shh. It’s okay. No need to be afraid,” he assures me. “I control the wolf. It doesn’t control me. Except for those three nights a month, but I’m even getting better at that. You can trust me. I
He releases my arms, letting his hands skim down the length of them, then over my shoulders before settling on my hips. He turns me around and tilts my chin up so that I can look him in the eye. The light above the shower enhances the gold in them.
I don’t have to use my powers to feel the truth and sincerity of Zack’s statement.
I place my hand on his chest and swallow down the lump in my throat. Zack and I are alike in so many ways. Living lives shrouded in secrets and built on too many lies. It’s impossible to connect with anyone when you can’t be real. And at the end of the day, whether human, Were, or Siren, that’s what we crave, what we truly yearn for—a connection.
“I wouldn’t be here, Zack, if I didn’t trust you.”
It’s almost as if he was waiting for permission, for assurance. Zack cups my face in the palms of his hands. His mouth covers mine and he kisses me deeply. Our tongues curl around each other, languidly exploring. Time stands still for me. I focus on the moment, on the sensation. On the taste and feel and smell of the man before me.
His hand leaves my hip. He lifts one of my legs onto the bench in the back of the shower, leaving me open and so wanting. Two fingers slip inside.
I gasp. My eyes widen and my head snaps back.
My reaction evokes a grin. His pumping is slow and steady, the rhythm old and familiar. After one night together, he already knows my body. He knows how to touch me and how to make me respond.
My hands reach for his biceps. I feel his power and strength as I run my hand over them, wanting, needing to hold on to something. I’m climbing. Higher and higher.
Zack adds another finger. His thumb is working, too. I want more. I want him with me, in me.
“Please.” My body is strung as tight as a bow. I’m breathing too fast.
“Tell me what you need, baby.”
One hand guides him, the other moves to still his movements. “You,” I manage to say before my knees start
