Ar'Tok - Alana Khan Page 0,35
surfaces. Occasionally he bobs up, waves at me, then submerges again. Although he’s out there exploring, the most dangerous thing I do is try to touch one of the tiny fish bold enough to approach me.
Half an hour later, Ar’Tok swims to me, stands, and says, “I’m going to teach you how to swim.”
He’s not playing around—no teasing smile, no abusive cirr pelting me with hard water droplets.
“Not today,” I tell him firmly. Now who’s the one who doesn’t want to try something new?
“Okay,” his voice is gentle, his expression open and kind. He’s going to let me take this at my own pace. “I’ll give you a ride.”
He stands in front of me, his back to my front, and with no further ado, lifts me onto him, so I’m riding piggyback.
“Put your arms around my neck.”
My legs surround his waist, my arms drape onto his chest, my breasts are smashed flat against his back. We’re wet and slippery and it strikes me that this is better than any dream I’ve ever had.
The sun creates shimmering stars on the water, and the sound of the ocean envelops us. We’re both half-naked—he’s in skintight shorts that leave nothing, and I do mean nothing, to the imagination. My one-piece suit, although it’s the most modest one for sale at the hotel store, hugs me so tightly now that it’s wet it reveals my hard-pricked nipples to a casual observer at one hundred paces. And Ar’Tok is not a casual observer.
The longest of his cirr wind around my arms to anchor me, and off we go. Ar’Tok kicks through the water as we swim farther from shore.
“Is this safe?” I ask, my wet lips at his ear.
“Yes. I was out farther than this a moment ago.”
How is it possible that he’s such a strong swimmer? I’ve never been this good at anything the first time I tried it. Well, maybe programming. Dad told me a million times I was a natural.
“This is magical,” I murmur, my mouth so close to his ear I’m sure he hears me.
“Yes,” he agrees, still kicking us through the water.
I don’t know if he understands the depth and breadth of what I’m saying, so I elaborate. “You in my arms, your wet skin under my fingertips, the sun ricocheting off the water. This is divine.”
He flips so fast I barely have time to panic before he’s treading water, holding me safely in his arms in the bridal position. We’re face to face. I can feel his warm breath caress my face. Without bidding, my tongue snakes out to catch the shining droplet of salty water hanging precariously from the tip of his nose.
We just gaze at each other, ridiculous grins on our faces. Is this what all the books are about? Was every love story ever written penned about this? This amazing feeling? Was every love song ever sung about this? Because my tummy is swirling and my heart is thumping and I feel overwhelmed with . . . I can’t say it. I can’t use the word.
“Don’t wake me,” he husks into my ear. “Don’t wake me from the best dream of my life. I’m afraid I’ll wake up in that cell again—that all of this was the product of my imagination.”
He pulls back, so he can look me in the eyes. “I’ll tell you one thing, Star. Even if this is a dream, it’s the best part of my life. Nothing could compare to this.”
His lips sink toward mine and he takes my mouth. In the past, he’s been gentle, maybe even tentative. Right this minute, though, there’s nothing tame about him. Maybe it was conquering the zip-line under the canopy of trees, or maybe it’s his ability to swim like a merman, but this male is kissing me like he’s not going to stop until he steals my breath away.
My hands tangle in his cirr, which return the favor by clutching onto me like they’ll never let me go. As if I wasn’t pressed close enough to him, he pulls me tighter, his tongue exploring me, savoring my taste as I’m savoring him. All I can detect is salt and flesh and liquid warmth.
The back of my mind vaguely wonders what would happen if a leviathan shot up from the seas and did backflips over our heads. Would either of us notice? We’re far too engrossed in each other to pay attention to anything but this, right here, right now.
My core is hungry for him.