Children of the Sea 02 - Sea Fever

tightened as he stood. “What?”
     
    She shook her head again, heat crawling in her face. “Nothing. Let me go. I need to take a walk.”
     
    “I’ll go with you.”
     
    She wet her lips. “Bad idea.”
     
    He lifted an eyebrow. He did it beautifully. She wondered if he practiced in the mirror. “Better than you turning an ankle on those rocks.”
     
    “I’ll be fine.”
     
    To anyone watching from the tent, they must look like lovers, standing hand in hand at the surf’s edge. Her heart thumped. She tried to tug away.
     
    His gaze dropped to their clasped hands. His fingers tightened. “You are warded.”
     
    She scowled at him, aroused and confused. “What are you talking about?”
     
    He ran his thumb along the inside of her wrist, over her tattoo. Could he feel her pulse go wild? “This.”
     
    Regina swallowed, watching his thumb stroke over the dark lines, the pale skin. “My tatt? It’s the Celtic sign for the triple goddess. A female empowerment thing.”
     
    13
    “It is a triskelion.” He traced the three flowing, connected spirals with his finger. “Earth, air, and sea, bound together in a circle. A powerful ward.” He looked up at her, his eyes dark and serious.
     
    Too serious. She felt a jolt in her stomach that might have been nerves or desire.
     
    “So, I’m safe,” she said breathlessly.
     
    His beautiful mouth curved in the moonlight. “As safe as you want to be.”
     
    Goose bumps tingled along her arms. She shivered, as exposed as if she stood naked by a window.
     
    “Safe works for me,” she said. Or it had until recently. “I have responsibilities.”
     
    “Not any longer. Caleb told you not to work tonight.”
     
    Regina blinked. He’d heard that? He was watching her with his brother?
     
    Caution flickered. She hadn’t been aware of an audience. She hadn’t been aware of him at all except as Caleb’s brother, a tall, dark presence at the back of the wedding, on the edges of the celebration.
     
    Her toes curled into the sand.
     
    She was aware of him now. He was barely touching her, only that light grip on her wrist, and yet she felt the heat of him all along her body.
    His eyes glittered black in the moonlight, absorbing the light, absorbing the air, growing bigger, darker, enormous as he leaned close, closer, tempting her with that well-cut mouth, teasing her with the promise of his kiss. His breath skated across her lips. She tasted wine and something else— dark, salty, elusive— heard a rushing in her ears like the sea. She opened her mouth to breathe, and he bent over her and covered her mouth firmly, warmly, with his.
     
    14
     

Two
     
    HE TASTED SO GOOD, HOT AND GOOD, LIKE salt and sex and brandy. Or maybe that was the wine she’d been drinking.
     
    Regina rose on tiptoe, straining for more of his taste, as his teeth scraped her lower lip, as his tongue plundered her mouth. Nerves and need danced together in her belly. Warning pulsed in her head.
     
    If she were smart— if she were sober— she would end this right now.
     
    Dylan’s hands stroked down her back and settled on her hips to draw her closer. His erection nudged between her thighs, and she lost her breath because he felt so good, hard and real against her, filling up the empty places, driving away the lonely thoughts.
     
    She wanted this. Needed it.
     
    She wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her tongue with his, grinding their hips together. His hands moved lower as he rocked against her. He was so hot, and she was burning up inside, everything inside her melting and flowing toward him. He kneaded her buttocks, pressing below, between, and when she spread her legs to give him better access, his fingers dug into her thighs, and he lifted her, positioned her against him.
     
    Sensation shuddered through her. She closed her eyes at the irresistible pressure, the unbearable temptation.
     
    Stupid, stupid.
     
    She tore her mouth away. Her heart slammed in her chest. Anyone could see them from the tent. Her mother, anyone.
     
    Okay, not her mother, Antonia had left with Nick. But—
    “No,” Regina gasped.
     
    Dylan’s arms tensed. His grip shifted. “No?”
     
    15
     
    Her head spun. Her blood pounded. She was wet and open and aching as a wound, and if she didn’t get some relief, she would scream.
     
    “Not here,” she amended.
     
    His low chuckle vibrated through her belly. If she knew him better, she would have slugged him. Regina scowled, her