Chapter 2: Steam and Submission
The jaguar’s growl was a vibration she felt in her bones, a deep thrumming that echoed the frantic beat of her own heart. Elizabeth gasped as the rough pads of his paws pinned her shoulders to the sun-warmed stone, the slickness of her own milk dampening the black-spotted gold of his chest fur. Steam curled around them, thick and perfumed with mineral heat and the wild, electric scent of him.
“William,” she breathed, her voice swallowed by the cascade’s roar.
In a blur of shadow and heat, the beast was gone. The pressure on her shoulders became the familiar, calloused grip of his human hands. He was already between her legs, his body a hard, insistent line against hers, his cock pressing where she was already wet and aching. The sudden shift left her dizzy—one moment the primal gaze of a predator, the next the fierce, green-eyed hunger of the man.
“Miss me?” he murmured, his mouth against her throat, teeth grazing her pulse.
She could feel it—the playful arrogance covering a deeper, sharper need. It buzzed against her senses, a tangled knot of desire and something else, something he always kept coiled tight. She arched, letting her nails score down his back. “Show-off.”
He laughed, a low, rough sound, and entered her in one smooth, devastating stroke. Her cry fractured against the mossy rocks. The heat was everywhere—the water lapping at their hips, the steam, the feverish core of him moving inside her. Her breasts, heavy and sensitive, brushed against the damp hair of his chest with every rock of his hips, a fresh trickle of milk mingling with the sweat and spring water.
His pace was relentless, a driving rhythm that matched the falling water. She clung to him, her legs locked around his waist, each thrust melting the world down to this: slick skin, pounding heart, his breath hot in her ear. The pleasure built, a cresting wave, and she shattered with a soundless gasp, her body clamping around him in rhythmic pulses.
He followed, his own release a stifled groan against her shoulder, his whole body tensing like a bowstring before going pliant, heavy against her.
For long minutes, there was only the sound of water and their slowing breaths. The mist coated them in a fine, cool sheen. Finally, he shifted his weight, but didn’t pull away, his forehead resting against hers.
“You’re thinking too loud,” he said, his voice a lazy rasp.
“I’m not thinking at all. You jarred it all loose.” She traced the line of his jaw, feeling the unspoken tension still humming beneath his skin. Her empathy stretched toward it, tentative. It felt like a locked door.
He caught her hand, kissed her palm, then slid out of her and back into the pool with a fluid grace. The emerald water swallowed him to the waist. “Come on. The hot part’s over there by the falls.”
She slipped in after him, the contrast of the cool surface and the thermal currents below making her sigh. They waded through the dappled light to where the waterfall thundered down, a curtain of warm, pounding rain. He leaned back against a smooth rock, letting the cascade drum against his shoulders, and pulled her to him, her back to his chest.
His arms were loose around her, his chin on her damp hair. It was this—the quiet after—that always felt most dangerous. The playing and the passion were easy. This stillness demanded something else.
“Last night,” she began, watching the way the steam rose in spirals, “in the clearing… you left before dawn.”
She felt him shrug. “Wolf got restless.”
“The wolf is always restless when you are.” She turned in the circle of his arms to face him. Water droplets clung to his dark lashes. “You don’t have to run, you know. From me.”
His smile was a fleeting, crooked thing. “Who’s running? I’m right here.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow I’ll be here, too. Probably as a grizzly. Startle the hell out of you while you’re picking berries.” He was deflecting, his thumb drawing idle circles on her hip.
The gentle touch belied the wall she felt. She pushed, just a little. “I can feel it, William. That itch under your skin. It’s not just the need to shift. It’s the need to be gone.”
The playful light in his eyes dimmed. He looked past her, into the dense green beyond the pool. “It’s a lot, Lizzie. This… you. It’s not just fun and games anymore.”
“And that scares you.”
“It terrifies me,” he admitted, the raw honesty so sudden it stole her breath. His gaze snapped back to hers, fierce and vulnerable. “You feel everything. You know everything. How do you just… stand it? How do you not want to fly apart?”
She placed a hand over his heart, feeling its strong, steady beat. “Because I also feel this. And it’s not a cage. It’s the only thing that makes the noise quiet down.”
He was silent for a long time, studying her face as if seeing it anew. The waterfall’s spray painted his skin in liquid light. Slowly, he bent his head and kissed her, a slow, searching kiss that tasted of heat and confession and a fear slowly being relinquished.