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He put his hand on my wrist and pulled my forearm down to the table. “I have.”
“You’re joking.” I covered my mouth with the opposite hand when I couldn’t stop giggling.
“They do it much like humans.”
I cocked my head. “Now, I know you’re not serious.”
He took the pencil from my hand and drew what were obviously two rays coupling. “The male bites the tip of the female’s pectoral fin.” He pointed to it with the pencil’s tip. “Once she’s distracted, he positions himself against her underside. Then he inserts his clasper into her cloaca.” He drew a protrusion resembling a penis from one manta ray, then something else that looked much like a vagina.
Thankfully, I’d stopped giggling. “How do you know so much about manta ray copulation?” I asked, unsure if anything he’d said was even true.
“I love the sea. It fascinates me.” His eyes traveled from mine to my lips. “Although you fascinate me more.”
Sound asleep and dreaming. I had to be. In fact, I think I’d imagined him saying those exact words. Except with an Italian accent. Or Greek.
“Here you go,” said Cora from the other side of the table. She set both glasses down without looking away from where Leviticus’ thumb continued stroking.
“Would you like something to eat?” he asked.
The way his gray eyes bored into mine made me dizzy. And mindless. Along with mute.
“I should wait.”
“The waiting is torture, is it not?” He inhaled before wrapping his free hand around his glass. “Absolute torture.”
Good God, could he smell my arousal? No. He couldn’t possibly. Although I was. Very much so.
When he raised his drink, I wriggled my hand from his to raise mine. Trying to do so with my left might have resulted in the very expensive bourbon spilling onto the drawing I knew I’d keep for the rest of my life. Even if it meant asking Cora to remove everything from the table so I could fold it and take it with me.
“Eliza?” he murmured.
My name on his lips sounded like a caress. “Yes?”
He touched his glass to mine. “Here’s to not waiting.”
10
TYPHON
Iwanted to lean forward and kiss her, but she was already trembling like I could picture her doing when I removed her clothes, then mine, and rubbed my hardness through the folds of her wet pussy.
Never in my life had I experienced a desire as strong as what I felt for her. Eliza. I loved the name as much as I loved her nervous smile.
“You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She lowered her gaze. I didn’t imagine the way she shuddered; it went straight to my cock that was already straining against my trousers.
“Are you certain your cousin is coming?” I asked.
She nodded once, then pulled her mobile from her bag, holding it so I couldn’t see the screen when she swiped it. “He’s always late, but, yes, he’s still coming.”
“I would never keep you waiting.” I reached for her hand once more. I had to keep touching her. Every part of me yearned for it.
I remembered seeing her at the Fumoir and immediately regretted not approaching her that night. I’d wasted weeks when I could’ve been with her, staring into her turquoise eyes as I made love to her.
“What will it be?” I asked, looking at our sketches. Hers looked like art. Mine, not so much.
“Pardon?”