Page 86 of The Hyena’s Guardian

Theron kissed him again, deep and claiming, but still somehow gentle, as though Matt was something precious he was afraid to break. His hand moved with slow patience, building a rhythm between them.

Matt broke the kiss with a gasp. “Can we—” He glanced toward the edge of the pool, the sand, the shelter of the cave walls. “Is there—”

Theron followed his gaze, then huffed a quiet laugh. “The sandbank. Where we were before.”

He kept one hand on Matt, the other guiding him through the water toward the shallow stretch of pale sand that sloped up from the pool’s edge.

The water was shallower here, barely above his knees as they moved closer to the bank. Theron stepped up onto the sand and turned, offering his hand.

Matt took it.

They stood on the sand, water streaming from their bodies, the cave’s dim light catching the droplets on their skin. Theron looked at him, really looked, from his wet hair to his wet lashes to the way his chest rose and fell in the cool air.

“Lie down,” Theron said. “I want to see you.”

Matt’s mouth curved. He lowered himself to the sand, cool and fine-grained against his back, and looked up at Theron standing over him, water still running in rivulets down his broad chest.

Theron knelt beside him and lowered himself over him, one hand braced beside Matt’s head, his body a warm canopy blocking out the rest of the cave.

He kissed Matt’s throat. Then his collarbone. Then the hollow between his pectorals. Matt’s hands found Theron’s shoulders, gripping as Theron worked his way down, mouth tracing a slow path across Matt’s ribs, his stomach, the jut of his hip.

Matt arched beneath him. “Theron.”

Theron looked up. “Yes?”

“Please.”

Theron’s smile was soft, almost shy in the dim light. “Please what?”

Matt’s hand found his hair, tugging gently. “Please stop teasing.”

Theron’s laugh came quiet, warm, genuine. Then he lowered his mouth and took him in.

Matt’s head pressed back against the sand. His hips bucked once, involuntarily, and Theron’s hand came down on his stomach, firm and grounding.

“Easy,” Theron murmured, the vibration sending a shudder through Matt’s whole body.

“I can’t—” Matt’s voice broke. “I’ve never—”

“I know.” Theron pulled back just long enough to meet his eyes. “That’s why I’m going to take my time.”

He lowered his mouth again, slower this time, and Matt’s hands fisted in the sand beside him as Theron worked him with a patience that felt almost unbearable.

The water lapped at the edge of the sandbank. Theron learned the shape of Matt’s pleasure one slow stroke at a time.

Theron pulled away, watching Matt’s reaction as cool air replaced warmth. Matt’s eyes opened, and Theron saw the dazed vulnerability there, the exposed trust, the way his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.

Theron settled back on his heels. One palm rested on Matt’s stomach, a grounding weight that moved with him.

“Matt.” Theron’s voice came low, roughened, and he waited until Matt’s eyes found his. “What do you need right now?”

The question landed in the quiet between them.

Matt’s hands, which had been fisted in the sand, relaxed. He looked at Theron, and something in his expression shifted. Surprise, perhaps. Or the realization that Theron had stopped not because desire had lessened, but because Matt mattered more than desire.

Matt’s throat worked. His hand came up and found Theron’s wrist, fingers circling the bone there.

“I need—” Matt stopped, then gave a quiet, self-conscious laugh. “I don’t actually know how to answer that.”