population was declining. The begetting of children was an issue of practical and political survival.
Yet Elizabeth did not desire another baby, that was clear.
And at some point, her desires had begun to matter to him.
Her firm jaw set at his continued silence. “If we do this, we use protection.”
Morgan gritted his teeth, frustration pounding in his blood.
If?
His kind were legendary for their sexual allure. With the slightest exertion of magic, he could overwhelm her resistance,
make her so wild for him she would let him do whatever he wanted to her without brake or barrier. But he would not violate
her will in such a way. He respected her too much. He . . . liked her, he realized, with a vague feeling of discomfort. He
wanted her not only willing but with him, in body and mind. Not any woman, but Elizabeth.
If that meant he must sheath himself, so be it.
“I suppose that is your usual practice,” he said stiffly.
She folded her arms across her naked breasts. “My usual practice?”
Had he said something to offend her?
“With your other partners,” he clarified.
Human partners. “ I can have sex with whomever I want, whenever I want, ” she had said.
Her eyes narrowed. “I don‟t have other partners.”
“Do you not?” he asked softly.
And why in the name of God and all the angels should he be concerned about whom she slept with or when? He was not
bound by the silly strictures of human behavior. The children of the sea were free to follow the lusts and whims of the
moment, their passions as powerful and changeable as the ocean which gave them being.
“That condom is almost four years old. I had to check the damn expiration date before I took it out of the box.”
Morgan felt his face go blank with shock. Four years. Her husband had been dead three. Did that mean . . . Surely that did
not mean . . .
“There must have been others,” he said.
She did not answer.
Ah.
No others since her husband, then. And given the timing of her pregnancy and marriage, likely few before.
Only him.
The thought was humbling and strangely arousing. She was not simply hungry for sex, Morgan realized. For whatever
reason, she wanted him . She had chosen him .
Which meant there was more involved here than a moment‟s comfort or the easing of lust. The act took on weight,
substance, significance.
Morgan felt a flicker of panic. For the first time, he doubted his ability to give her what she needed. He only knew he felt
compelled to try.
She raised her chin another notch. “If you‟ve changed your mind . . .”
“Do I look,” he demanded, “as though I have changed my mind?”
Her gaze fell to his ruddy cock, jutting proudly from between his thighs. “No,” she admitted.
“Perhaps,” he suggested, only half joking, “I am simply intimidated by your trust in me.”
She smiled wryly. “You don‟t appear particularly intimidated either.”
Indeed, under her gaze, he was swelling, hardening further.
“Not on the outside,” he acknowledged. “But how lowering if you concluded, after so long a wait, that your patience was
not adequately rewarded.”
With relief, he watched the light spring back into her eyes. “Maybe—after so long a wait—I won‟t be very picky. Either
way, it‟s my choice.”
He really did like her, he thought. Even now, she took responsibility for her actions and reactions on her own shoulders. It
made them equal in a way they had not been sixteen years ago.
“Shall we put it to the test, then?” he asked.