Devil and the Deep (The Ceruleans Book 4) - Julie Ann Walker Page 0,42

a wide-palmed hand over her mouth.

“Shhhhh,” he hissed, his lips moving against her ear, his hot breath burning along her cheek. “Just breathe, babe.”

Uh-huh. Breathe. Right.

Problem was, she couldn’t. Not without hacking up a lung. And if she did that, the resulting sound could resonate through the cistern and out into the parade grounds, alerting their enemies to their presence.

For Pete’s sake, Maddy! Could you be any more of a pain in the ass?

Going on instinct, she spun in Bran’s embrace, wrapping her legs around his waist and burying her nose in the crook of his neck. Her stomach contracted around the need to cough. Her lungs quaked. But she managed to execute a muted throat-clearing thing that she further muffled against Bran’s tough flesh. It wasn’t exactly a silent exercise. But neither was it sure to bring the bad guys down on their heads.

Again and again, she repeated the process. Each odd inhale and exhale felt gritty, like she’d pulled sand into her lungs instead of water. But after a few seconds, she was able to suck air through her nose without her diaphragm trying to send it hacking back out into the warm, dense atmosphere.

Her senses returned. She could hear the gentle slap-slap of the water against the sides of the brick structure. She could smell the clean, masculine scent of Bran beneath the thin layer of seawater that coated his skin. She could feel his heavy pulse beating beneath her lips, a drumbeat she could set her watch to. And even though she couldn’t see—the darkness inside the cistern was complete—she knew at some point Bran had swum them to the edge. She could sense the tall, damp walls of the water tank rising overhead. With one arm still wrapped securely around her waist, he was holding on to something that allowed them to float freely, effortlessly in the water.

For a while, she allowed herself to revel. Revel in being alive. Revel in being able to breathe. Revel in feeling momentarily safe and secure inside Bran’s embrace—she’d stuck herself to him like a whole sleeve of plastic wrap; if there was a fraction of an inch of space between their bodies, she couldn’t feel it. She closed her eyes against the darkness and simply…was. No thoughts. No fears. Just her. Just him. Just being. Just touching.

And then it happened…

Bran’s pulse kicked up. His chest expanded on a deep breath. And he stilled against her, all his muscles contracting at once. She knew what caused the change. It was the same thing that happened any time they touched. Sudden, intimate…awareness.

The smooth firmness of his skin beneath her lips tempted her to taste. She fought the need for a whole two seconds. It was two seconds she was extremely proud of, just to be clear. But then she couldn’t stand it. She opened her lips over his hammering pulse-point and flicked her tongue against his hot flesh.

Male. That was the word that flittered through her brain as Bran’s sweet, salty taste exploded on her tongue. He was all man. From top to bottom. Inside and out. And when she was touching him, kissing him, she was every bit a woman. Completely aware that she had breasts and a womb. Both ached, throbbed, yearned.

Bran sucked in a ragged breath at the second pass of her tongue. “Maddy,” he rumbled, lowering his chin until his lips moved against her ear. The arm around her waist became a wide, warm hand that crept lower, lower, lower until he was palming her ass, kneading and caressing and moving her against him in that age-old rhythm that rubbed her swelling sex against the seam of her shorts.

Her nipples tightened into painful buds. Her clitoris throbbed, rejoicing in the sudden friction. And his response, his inability to pretend they were just pen pals when they were together like this, emboldened her. She closed her mouth over his pulse and sucked. Bran started to quiver. A telltale sign of what would happen next. He’d snap. Suddenly he would be the one running the show, not her. He would be the one making her moan. He would be the one making her shiver. He would be the conqueror and she the conquered. And she would love every minute of it.

But before Bran had the chance to go all…Bran on her, Mason cleared his throat. The sound carried from somewhere over on the opposite wall of the cistern and accomplished two things. It reminded Maddy that she and