Chapter 14 #2
Shudders rippled through the pool as he stepped into the water.
He fully submerged, dropping below the surface for a heartbeat before coming up, rivulets of steaming water cascading down his chest, dripping from his slicked back waves.
The water was black with reflected night, hiding his nakedness.
He shifted closer, sitting on the ledge where her right leg rested.
He grabbed his soap bar from the floor and after wetting it, picked up her soaking foot.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Helping, I hope.” He scrubbed her foot and up her leg, massaging the sore arch of her foot, her aching calve. “You must be in tremendous pain.”
Cerise swallowed, his touch at once setting her ablaze and relaxing her pains.
He moved to the other leg, dark water undulating around his broad form, and cared for her broken side with attentive tenderness.
Tension and discomfort released in waves, relieved by each press of his fingertips, and Cerise bit the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning at the pleasure of his hands roving up to her swelling knee, gently pressing on the injury.
“Would it not help to get in the water?”
She hesitated. “It would.”
His gaze swept over her face, assessing. The prince lowered his hands and slid back, leaving Cerise to somehow feel colder despite the heat rising from the pools.
“What if I promise to keep my eyes closed until you’re in the water?”
Cerise flicked her gaze over to Oberon, at how the pool, as dark as the night sky, blurred his body. Chest tightening, she nodded, and the prince turned around.
Staring at his defined, broad back, Cerise tugged off her shirt and briefly lifted her legs out of the water to peel off her pants and underwear.
Heart racing and fingertips tingling with a sickening mix of anticipation and fear, she braced her arms on the edge and slowly lowered herself, letting the heat seep into her skin.
Cerise briefly submerged herself, wetting her hair and face.
Then she grabbed the soap bar, shifting it between her fidgeting fingers.
Once only her shoulders, neck, and head were above water, she cleared her throat and said, “I’m in.”
Oberon turned, the waves from his movement flowing against her chest. Her body tightened as he appraised her, the claw marks that ran over the curve of her shoulders, down to the swell of her breasts. The prince sidled closer, gaze lingering on the scars, tracking their paths across her body.
Ugly, ugly, ugly, echoed through Cerise’s mind and heart as each deformation seemed to blaze anew beneath his gaze.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, and Cerise pinched her mouth tight at the sudden swell of emotion that surged through her. Getting closer, he took the soap from her restless fingers. Stretching out her arm as if to wash it, he asked, “May I?”
Throat clogged, she nodded once more.
The prince swiped the bar up her arm and over her shoulders, gently scrubbing.
He did the same for the other side, cleaning her in long, slow motions as if worshipping her skin.
Each stroke was like a sigh of relief cascading through Cerise’s body, the firm press of his movements a gentle massage.
Their bodies drifted closer, yet never quite touched.
He sudsed the soap bar between his hands, then washed her hair, massaging her scalp.
She groaned and closed her eyes, tilting her head back, giving in to the pleasure of his hands, the gentle tug of her hair releasing the last fragment of tension from her shoulders and neck.
He pulled and massaged her head for several minutes, then cupped water in his palms and spilled it over her head, guided it through her hair several times to clean out the soap.
His hands drifted below water, a delightful shiver coursing through her body as he found the back of her calve, fingertips sliding over her skin to the top of her injured knee.
He lifted her leg, stretching it out. She groaned again as he pressed into the swollen ache of her old wound, and she dipped her head back, resting it on the ground outside the pool.
A mimicking sound of desire escaped the prince and she opened her eyes, following his gaze to where her breasts now peeked out of the water.
Brief self-consciousness flickered through her at the exposure of her deformities.
But his ravenous expression dissipated the shame, and all she wanted to know was what fantasies spun behind his eyes.
“Whatever you’re thinking about doing, do it.”
A pleased rumble went through him, one hand squeezing up her leg as he closed the distance between them.
He nudged her leg so that he rested between them, although their bodies still did not touch.
With one hand on her upper thigh, the other swept under her head, tilting it up.
Bringing his face to hers, he held her gaze for several moments, thumb brushing her cheek.
Oberon pressed his firm, warm lips to the scar that split her face. The back of her eyes stung, a lump forming in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep those too soft feelings from escaping.
He kissed down the scar, following it to her jaw, neck, and shell of her ear. She focused on his fingers, the bright bursts of pleasure they trailed over her skin. His submerged hand slid up her torso, pausing on the new, puckered wound from Vraethik on her gut.
“You shouldn’t have saved me first,” he breathed against her ear.
Through the haze of his touch, it took Cerise a moment to understand what he meant.
How she’d sacrificed her chance to end Vraethik quickly to free Oberon from the bone cage.
Even looking back at it, she couldn’t justify any other course of action.
She couldn’t risk the extinguishing of his light.
There had only been freeing him. Keeping him safe.
“I had no choice,” she replied, hand drifting up his muscled arm.
Oberon lifted his gaze, his nose brushing against her own. “And why’s that?”
Images of him flickered across her mind.
A peaceful yet desperate bear, clawing away runes.
The fur sloughing off him, revealing the handsome prince within.
All the times he’d covered his snout or nose in a promise to not cause harm.
Gazing at the sky, telling her the constellations.
His relentless flirting. Startling vulnerability.
The offering of strength when hers failed.
Of kindness and compassion for herself and others when she had none.
Of the terror that seized her when the bones wrapped around him, carrying him away.
But she’d never been much good with words. She didn’t know how to transform all those images and the fond feelings they created into thoughts.
Instead, she kissed him.
As soon as her mouth met his, he leaned into her kiss, lips opening her own without hesitation. His tongue swept across hers, tasting her. A low groan rumbled through him, as desperate as a rose for water after a drought. Oberon’s arms swept behind her back, tugging her closer.
She lifted her arms around his shoulders, hand twining in his waves, every place he touched her ablaze.
His firm lips and exploring tongue. The brush of his soft beard.
The comfort of his bare, broad chest against her own.
The gentle pressure of his arousal between her legs.
His hands, at once powerful and soft, roving over her skin.
Never hesitating on the scars or flinching away.
Instead discovering her shape as if trying to memorize it.
Cerise wrapped her legs around his hips, bringing him closer.
He groaned as his cock rubbed against her, a similar moan escaping her at the combined sound of his pleasure and that which shot through her.
He broke their kiss, pressing his lips down her neck as he moved against her.
She leaned her head back on the ledge once more, relishing the sweet waves of pleasure that coursed through her.