Warriors of Poseidon 04 - Atlantis Unmasked

himself.
     
    Then he turned around to face his future.
     
    Grace was a little dazed from the sheer glory of walking into her room and finding a perfect Atlantean backside mooning her. When he turned around, clutching her plaid blanket to his middle, she tried not to laugh. Fought really hard against it.
     
    Lost the fight.
     
    She laughed so hard tears came to her eyes. “You know, I had a really rocking seduction scene planned, but this works, too.”
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    He smiled sheepishly at first, but the smile faded as something hot and predatory moved into his eyes. “Seduction? Rocking seduction? Oh, Grace, I am most definitely at your disposal tonight.”
     
    “I can see that. I can see a lot,” she said, still laughing a little, but mostly trying not to hyperventilate at the sight of all that muscled chest, shoulders, and arms. Naked. Those long, muscled legs. Also naked.
     
    Her heart started racing, and she hoped the jacked-up Atlantean senses didn‟t include hearing heartbeats. “Quite a lot,” she continued. “Wandering around naked, were you?
    Wonder what Tiny thought of that?”
     
    He took a step toward her. Stalking her. “Undoubtedly he would have reacted as you are doing now, but I did not travel in a form that could be seen.”
     
    “And your clothes?”
     
    “I left them on the beach. You, yourself, are wearing far too many.” He took another step toward her. “Perhaps you would care to remove that jacket.”
     
    Laughter and breath both whooshed out of her as she realized he was really here. They were really going to do this. Act on the attraction that had been building between them for so long.
     
    “Stop thinking so hard,” he said. “This is a simple choice, Grace. Either ask me to leave or remove your clothes. All of your clothes. We are going to resolve this between us, once and for all, and outside of the sparring ring.” He flashed a wicked smile at her that sent her pulse racing. “And I hate tennis.”
     
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    She reacted to his challenge with one of her own, pushing the door shut behind her, then turning to push a chair in front of it. There were no locks on any of the doors here.
    She‟d never needed or wanted one before now.
     
    Suddenly he was behind her, crowding her. Startled, she fell forward a little, bent over the chair, and caught herself with the flat of her hands on the wooden door, then winced as the gash in her side ached from the movement. As was typical of her, her body had begun the healing process in record time while she slept, but it had been a very bad wound. It was still bad. Just because it was sealed shut instead of gaping open, the matter of maybe a week‟s healing in anyone else, didn‟t mean that it didn‟t still hurt.
     
    He pressed against her so closely that the heat of his body was touching her, leaning into her, all along her back from shoulders to feet.
     
    She didn‟t feel any blanket, either.
     
    Her breath sped up, but she didn‟t try to get away. Simply turned her head and gazed at him over her shoulder. “Not that I don‟t appreciate the gesture, but this is a little tough on my side.”
     
    Instantly he was pulling her back, gently lifting her, swearing—at himself, she guessed—under his breath. “I am so sorry, mi amara . I am a fool. Of course my timing is horrendous. You are injured, and—”
     
    She leaned into his hard, hot chest and shut him up the best way she could think of—she kissed him. His lips were firm and yet soft. Warm. His mouth tasted like spice and heat, and she wanted more and more. She threaded the fingers of her left hand through that glorious mass of his hair and pulled his head down farther so even his breath became part of her.
     
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    “Yes,” she said, finally releasing his lips, pleased to discover that she wasn‟t the only one breathing hard. “I was injured, but I‟m much better now. I have pretty good healing abilities. I was coming to get you, you know.”
     
    He released her and she sank down on her bed. He stepped back as if touching her burned him. “I can only apologize again, mi amara . I wasn‟t thinking, only lusting like a black-hearted . . .” His litany of apologies and self-recrimination trailed off as he seemed to finally remember that he was standing there buck naked.
     
    She let