Perhaps leaving him during that particular climate of our marriage, in this particular time on Triton, not long after a massive assault on the palace where we were staying, an attack where he lost a man he cared greatly for, was stupid.

“Mm,” he hummed, his eyes on my mouth, and I had a feeling he knew my thoughts.

I decided to change the subject.

“I need to be close to the sea, Aramus, for a few days.”

His eyebrows drew together as his gaze lifted to mine. “Of course. This is why we’re here.”

“What I mean is, I wish to stay. For a few days.”

“Of course, Ha-Lah, this is why we’re here.”

“I know that we shouldn’t linger,” I continued. “We should make moves to again join the others. I just need a few days.”

His hand at my jaw and his arm at my waist dragged me up his big body and he rumbled, “Ha-Lah, you listen close to words I wish you would not hear, and not to words I want you to hear. We will stay as long as you like. If you desired to be here a year, I’d allow it.”

I felt my eyes widen. “A year?”

“Well, perhaps not a year,” he muttered. “I have a kingdom to run.”

I smiled at him.

He grew still against me when I did.

Then I heard (and it must be said…felt) a sound that seemed to originate in his chest before it rolled out from between his lips.

And where I felt it was also at my chest.

As well as between my legs.

Which meant said legs trembled.

Kiss me, I begged with my eyes.

My husband was not looking in my eyes.

He was staring fixedly at my mouth.

Kiss me!

“We should get back,” he murmured, his body moving as if he’d let me go.

“Oh, for the sirens’ sakes,” I snapped, took my hands from his chest, latched on to his cheeks, yanked him down to me…

And I kissed him.

I barely had my lips to his before I had my back to the sand with the great, warm weight of my husband on top of me.

His tongue was plundering my mouth.

His big hands were shoved up my nightgown at my back.

And by all the bounty of the seas, he felt good.

He tasted good.

And he kissed magnificently.

I clutched his bald head in both hands, holding him to me, pressing up into his body.

He tore his mouth from mine, growling, “Sirens-bloody-dammit.”

Wait.

What?

Why had he stopped?

“Aramus?” I breathed.

“I’m not making love to my wife the first bloody time in the fucking sand,” he groused.

I shifted my hands to either side of his head and said urgently, “We’ll go back to the tent and we’ll go quickly.”