Free Alive (The Crave) by Megan D. Martin Page A

breathing hard, like she’d run a marathon.
    “Anything. Tell me what makes Eve Mercy Wicker tick.”
    She locked in her gaze with his, trying to follow his advice for once and not throw up everywhere. “I don’t even know.” She dug her nails into his shoulder.
    “Tell me about your name. Your middle name. Why did they name you Mercy?”
    “So God would have mercy on my soul.”
    “What?”
    “Yes, they—” her gaze wandered over his shoulder.
    “Look at me. Only me.”
    She did. She focused on his slightly crooked nose and full lips. “My mom got pregnant with me before they got married. I was conceived in sin, they said. A damned soul.” They hated her. They made it no secret that she was the bane of their existence. “A child of Satan.” Her dad always said. “It’s why they named me Eve.” She took a deep breath, staring into his gray eyes. “A reminder of the fall of mankind and the woman who committed the original sin.”
    “You’re serious.”
    “I am.”
    His dark brows furrowed.
    “Swimming was a sin too. To wear a bathing suit. To wear anything and be dipped in water where our bodies would be exposed by wet material.”
    As if on cue Gage’s gaze dipped. Staring at the wet material of her shirt. The movement of his eyes was like a physical caress against her skin. Her nipples pebbled hard underneath her shirt. His gaze narrowed, as if he could see her body’s reaction to him.
    She became suddenly aware of his hand clasping her around her hip, his fingers splayed across her back. She was pressed against him so that her head was slightly above his and her breasts were right in front of his face. She was vaguely aware of the swish of water against her thigh as his free hand paddled to keep them afloat. I should be terrified. But she wasn’t. Her fear had dissipated like a bad dream does over the course of a day.
    There was nothing left but him, holding her body against his in the water. She released her hands from the death grip on his shoulders and moved them back and forth over his smooth dark skin. Had anyone’s skin ever felt so right? She couldn’t remember, couldn’t recall. Of course there hadn’t been any others besides him when it came to touching, but she couldn’t remember exactly what his skin had been like beneath her hands.
    She let her eyes follow her fingertips as they made their way up the slope of his neck and over his ear. She trailed them across his short hair. “How do you cut it? It looks just like I remember it.”
    “I shave it with a razor. It’s pretty grown out now.” His voice was deeper than moments before, sending a tremor of pleasure rocketing through her body. She wriggled against Gage, wanting to prolong the blissful feeling. Her movement caused her thigh to rub against a thick protrusion between their bodies.
    She sucked in a breath at the feel of his bare cock against her skin. She’d seen him undress even if she hadn’t wanted to watch. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. She didn’t want to see his bare body on display before her. But she had been helpless to look away. They’d gather the items she needed from the massive kitchen and she’d followed him out into the yard and walked over to the huge pond. She’d watched the muscles in his back flex as he walked. It was a sin to look that good. It really was. He hadn’t tried for any modesty at all as he’d stripped down to nothing. His tight bare ass flexed in the afternoon sun like a sculpture of some sort of perfect Greek god. His caramel skin stretched tight over thick muscles.
    Her body reacted instantly to the previous memory and the brush of his erection sending hot heat pooling between her thighs. A feeling only intensified by the cool water surrounding them.
    She looked into his eyes to see that his pupils had dilated and his breathing was coming out in hard jaunty breaths. She kept her eyes on his and moved again. Letting his cock rub against her thigh in a slow deliberate