Chapter 6 #2
She walked faster, following the path behind the largest outbuilding.
The ground sloped down, and she had to watch her footing on the loose stones.
She shivered as the temperature dropped another few degrees and hurried to get into the lee of the building, sheltered from the slight wind.
Her fingers were going numb, so she shoved them deeper into her pockets.
White steam caught her eye, rising from behind rocks twenty yards out.
What was that?
She frowned and left the path, picking her way across the uneven ground. The steam grew thicker, and she could smell it now… minerals and heat and something sulfurous but not unpleasant.
Her eyes widened. Natural hot springs. Of course a place like this would have them.
Someone had built up rocks around the largest pool, creating a rough circle maybe eight feet across.
The rocks were worn smooth, fitted together without mortar.
Steam rose from the surface, the water dark in the moonlight.
She moved closer, drawn by heat. Her boot slipped on wet stone and she caught herself, one hand out for balance.
Then movement caught her eye as the surface of the pool bulged, something rising from within.
Water sluiced off broad shoulders as Goraath stood up in the pool and her brain short-circuited.
Fuck.
He was naked. Or close enough. Some kind of covering that sat low on his hips, dark fabric that clung to him, wet and leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. Everything else was bare. Exposed. Magnificent.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Her eyes widened and she couldn’t look away as water ran down his chest, catching in the grooves between muscles and pooling briefly in the hollow of his throat.
The scars she’d only glimpsed before were visible now.
Some were thin and precise, slicing cleanly.
Others were thick and ropy, brutal wounds that should have killed him.
One curved from his left shoulder down across his ribs, disappearing around his side. Another cut across his abdomen, vanishing beneath the fabric that hung from his lean hips.
Reaching up, he pushed wet hair back from his face, and the movement did things to his chest and arms that made her mouth go dry. Water droplets caught in the dark hair across his chest.
She should announce herself. Should back away. Should do anything except stand there frozen while her body went haywire.
But she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He turned, giving her a view of his back.
Holy fuck.
He was absolutely ripped and filled with muscle, the kind that came from actual use, from work and survival, not any alien gym. His shoulders were broad enough to block out stars, tapering to narrow hips…
He stretched, pulling every muscle taut. His head tipped back, exposing his throat, and he made a sound, low, satisfied, pure male, and it went straight through her.
Heat flooded her. Her nipples tightened against her thermal shirt, going hard and sensitive, every breath making the fabric drag across them.
He sank back into the water up to his chest, then stood again. Water streamed down the V of his hips, following that trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the fabric. The impressive bulge was barely contained by the material, the outline clear and devastating.
Her core clenched, empty and aching. Wetness flooded between her thighs, sudden and shocking in its intensity. She’d gone from aroused to desperate in seconds.
A twig snapped under her boot.
The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet night. Panic crashed through her. He started to turn and she dropped to crouch behind the nearest rock. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she was sure he’d hear it.
One second. Two. Three.
Fuck, had he seen her?
She held her breath, every muscle locked, thighs burning from the crouch.
Ten seconds. Twenty.
Finally, she peered around the rock. He’d settled back into the water, head tipped back against the edge, eyes closed. He hadn’t seen her.
Relief made her shaky. She backed up, one step at a time, testing the ground before putting her weight down, just in case. Another step. Then another. Each one deliberate while her body screamed at her to run.
She made it around the corner of the building before the shaking got too bad. Then she walked as fast as she could without running, arms wrapped around herself.
Not from cold… she wasn’t cold. She was burning up.
Her face felt like it was on fire. Her whole body felt too tight, too aware, skin hypersensitive under her clothes.
The thermal leggings that had felt comfortable an hour ago now felt like they were touching her everywhere, fabric sliding against over-sensitized skin with every step.
The seam pressed against her with each movement, making her bite back a whimper.
The house felt too warm when she stepped inside. Too bright even though only a single lamp was on in the entryway. She stood there for a moment, her hands shaking. Her breath came too fast, the ache between her legs was back.
The hallway stretched forever. Her door seemed too far away. Then she was there, fumbling with the handle, and practically falling into the room.
She closed the door and leaned back against it, eyes squeezed shut.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
Closing her eyes made it worse. Made the image in her head clearer.
Goraath rising from the water like something out of all her fantasies.
All those muscles. The sheer size of him.
Water clinging to every ridge and valley of muscle.
That fabric outlining everything, showing her exactly what he was working with, and fuck, he was working with a lot.
Her body pulsed with need. Her underwear was soaked through and her clit throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
Her hand was at the fastening of her thermal leggings before she could think about it.
This was such a mistake. She should take a cold shower.
But her body had taken over. It wanted. It demanded. And she was too far gone to fight it.
She shoved the leggings down just far enough, not bothering to pull them all the way off.
Just pushed them to mid-thigh, underwear too.
Her fingers slipped between her legs, and found wetness, so much of it she gasped.
She’d never been this wet without actual foreplay, without being touched, without—
She circled her clit and had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. She was so sensitive, so swollen, that even that light touch sent shockwaves through her. So swollen. But light wasn’t enough.
She needed more. Needed to be filled.
Pressing two fingers inside herself, she had to catch at the doorframe as her knees almost buckled. Her fingers slid in without resistance. But two wasn’t enough either. Nowhere near enough.
Three fingers. That was better. Fuller. She bit back her moan as she fucked herself hard… no buildup, no teasing, just desperate need. Her other hand covered her mouth to muffle any sound because the walls were thick but not that thick and if he heard her…
The thought of him knowing made her wetter.
In her mind, he was still in that pool. But now he saw her. Those eyes locked on hers. He didn’t look surprised. He looked hungry as he moved toward her through the water. Slow. Deliberate. Giving her time to run if she wanted.
She didn’t want to run.
Her fingers moved faster, palm grinding against her clit with each thrust as the fantasy played out in her mind.
He reached the edge of the pool. Put his hands on the rocks and lifted himself out in one smooth motion, all that scarred strength on display. Water streaming off his body. That fabric clinging to him, transparent now, hiding nothing.
He stalked toward her. No hesitation. Just pure male intent.
Her legs shook. She was close, so close, her inner muscles fluttering. He backed her against the nearest tree. Put one hand on either side of her head, caging her in. Leaned down until his mouth was almost touching hers and said—
She came so hard her vision whited out.
Her whole body clenched, internal muscles clamping down on her fingers as the orgasm crashed through her.
She bit down on her own hand to keep from crying out, hard enough to leave marks.
Wave after wave of pleasure hit her. Her hips jerking as her back arched off the door.
It went on and on, her fingers still moving, drawing out every last pulse until she couldn’t take anymore and had to stop.
Slumping against the door, her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Her legs were like jelly and her whole body tingled as sweat cooled on her skin.
For maybe thirty seconds, she felt better. Sated. Then reality crashed back.
She’d just gotten herself off thinking about Goraath. In his house. After creeping on him while he’d been relaxing in privacy.
She fixed her clothes with shaking hands, pulled her leggings back up, ignoring how sensitive she still was. Every movement sent aftershocks through her.
She grabbed fresh clothes and changed. Soft sleep pants and a tank top that felt too much and not enough against her skin. Her nipples were still hard, visible through the thin fabric. She pulled on a loose shirt.
Crawling into bed, she pulled the covers up to her chin.
Tomorrow she’d have to face him. Sit across from him at breakfast. Look him in the eye and pretend she hadn’t watched him. Pretend she hadn’t violated his privacy and then immediately gotten herself off to the memory.
What kind of person did that?
She turned onto her side, pulling her knees up and tried not to think about the big, hard, ripped body he’d been hiding under those work clothes.
She pulled the pillow over her face and groaned into it.
Breakfast was going to be absolute hell.