Layala’s breath caught as his calloused hands slid under the collar of her dress, and he lightly kissed the hollow of her neck. She closed her eyes and bumps slithered across her skin.
“Would you like assistance with removing this?” he asked.
Breathless, she nodded.
He pushed one side of the fabric off her shoulder, then the other and the dress cascaded down her body into a pool around her feet, leaving her in a pair of undergarments that barely covered her behind and tied at her hips. His thumbs hooked around those too. “And these?”
Layala bit her lip and then smiled. “Help yourself, my king.”
He slowly lowered into a crouch, his warm breath moved over her exposed breasts and then he bit the fabric, tugging her underwear down over her hip. She groaned as his nose grazed her sensitive skin. “Thane,” she almost pleaded until the fabric of her underwear fell to her ankles. Any ounce of resistance shattered, and she may as well have melted in his arms. How did he know exactly what to do to make her desire him all the more?
He stood and took a small step back. His breath quickened as his heavy-lidded eyes drank her in. They roamed over her breasts and down her stomach to her thighs. “Maker, Layala, you’re beautiful. And the way you say my name, that alone can make me come undone.”
Always thinking of her first, he took her hand and guided her into the tub. She stepped in and slowly sank into the steaming water. Sucking in a breath she dipped under and scrubbed at her scalp. It felt itchy and gross, and the hot water soothed. She blew out her breath and let the bubbles rise to the surface before she followed them up. After wiping water from her face, her vision focused on Thane stepping out of his boots. His belt jingled as he loosed the buckle, letting his pants drop to reveal his long, muscular legs. Nice ass, she thought, biting her lower lip.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, a sly smile on his lips. “Enjoying the show?”
“Immensely.” She didn’t know if it was the water temperature making her hotter or the sight of him, but her cheeks suddenly felt like bright embers. “And I’d enjoy it more if you turned around and came closer.”
He was at the edge of the large metal tub in a breath, eyes sparkling with curiosity and laced with seduction. She rose to her feet; water rushed down her body, splashing quietly into the tub. A low growl of need escaped him as his gaze greedily roamed over her, and he reached toward her hips.
She smacked his hand away. “You got to have your fun undressing me. Now let me have mine.”
He chuckled. “Fine.”
Arching her eyebrow, she gripped the bottom of his tunic, letting her fingers brush his skin as she slowly raised it upward. His breathing became deeper and his smile less play and more carnal. He lifted his arms, and she slipped the dark fabric over his head and tossed it away. Unable to stop herself, she slid her fingers over his round muscular shoulders, and across his collarbone.
“So you can touch me but I can’t touch you? Tease,” he purred.
“Shhh,” she said and pressed her fingertip to his lips. Maker above, he was perfect; his form as powerful and corded with muscle as before. She continued her inspection, dragging her hands down his chest, admiring every inch of his perfect skin until… “Holy Maker above, that scar. Thane.” Even after all those cuts and stabs from within that cage in Calladira he didn’t have a mark, but the dragon’s claw left him torn.
Looking down, his fingers ran over the raised pink flesh on his abdomen. “It’s better than it was.”
Swallowing hard, she placed her palm over it, feeling the violent edges. It must have been excruciating. “Does it still hurt?”
He placed his hand over hers, stroking his thumb over the top of her skin. “Only sometimes. You don’t need to worry, my love.”
But she was worried. No wonder he couldn’t get to her sooner. That dragon bitch needed to die. “I’m going to murder her. Slowly.”
He stepped into the tub and brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles then pulled her down with him, raising the water level up to her shoulders. She rose to her knees and grabbed the sponge off the side table and dipped it in. After lathering it with soap, she leaned forward, leaving only inches between them and slowly wiped it across the hard planes of his chest, admiring his powerful, defined pectorals and shoulders. “How did you—survive?” It pained her a little to even suggest he almost didn’t.
He watched her face as she concentrated on the sponge, gliding over his warm ivory skin; if she looked him in the eye now, she didn’t know if she could hold herself back. The pleasant heat blooming in her intensified and she pressed her lips to his wet shoulder gently. His skin was soft and smooth.
“Barely,” he said, his voice vibrated through her touch. His fingertips danced on the outside of her hips, gliding up her waist. “With the help of Mage Vesstan and my healing ability. I couldn’t walk for a few weeks. The first week I think I was in and out of reality, hallucinating in a fever.”
She hated to think about how many days and nights he suffered. And she’d pitied herself for not being able to drink or eat, wishing for him to rescue her while he was near death. She should have found a way to go to him. Moving the sponge down his throat and over his arm, elicited a low hum. “That feels good, Laya.”
“You truly must be descended from the old gods to have survived this.” She dipped her hand underwater and touched his scar again, mystified.
He smirked. “You must be, for I have never seen anyone as divine.” His hands gripped her waist, and he pulled her against him. A heartbeat later his mouth claimed hers. It wasn’t a soft, tentative kiss. There was surety, ownership. It left no doubt that he was hers. “Or delicious.” He kissed her again. “Or sexy. You are a goddess of desire, drawing me in, infusing yourself into my every thought—I’ve never wanted anything more than you, Laya.”
The sponge plopped into the water. Her hands gripped behind his neck. Hot water made his skin slick and warm. His rough palms cupped her backside, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. “Mmm,” he hummed until full lips crashed into hers again and his tongue slid past her teeth, flicking against her own. “Maker, I’ve never craved anything so much,” he murmured, fisting her hair. “Never needed something like this.”
She moaned as she rubbed against his hardness, pushing her hands along his scalp, gripping him tighter with her thighs. Her nails slid across the muscles of his back, and he arched into her further. His breath came faster and moved strands of her hair like a gentle wind. His smell: sweet but heavy, her nose trailed along his shoulder and up his neck, cedar, mint soap and sweat. She tasted the salt of his skin on her lips and wanted more. “I love you,” she whispered. “And oh, how I missed you.”
His kisses trailed down her neck, to her collarbone, raising bumps along her skin, and then his tongue slid over her sensitive peaked breast. Her head lolled back until he grabbed her face between his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. What she saw there, the longing and wild intensity made her shudder. “Do you want me, Laya?”
She rocked her hips against him quicker. “Yes,” she could barely breathe, “I want you, all of you.” Their bodies fully met, and she let out a quiet gasp, as did he. Every sensation intensified with his lips roaming over her flesh, his hips moving in sync with hers. Even without their mate bond she still swore their emotions mixed: need, want, demand—filling her soul deep. Magic brushed down her spine, through her, like its own featherlight caress, the whisper of a forbidden lover in a crowded room.
“Promise me forever, Thane,” she said.
“Forever and always,” he said against her lips. “I will never stop loving you. I will never stop craving you.”
She closed her eyes, letting their connection soar. His moan vibrated through her core; the sensations of him made her feel lighter and heavier all at once, intoxicated. He grabbed her chin again with one hand forcing her to meet his gaze. “I want to look into your eyes when you say my name, when you let yourself go.”
“Thane,” she breathed. He slid his hands down her body, gripping under her thighs. A moment later he rose to his knees, lifting her with him. That careful delicacy he seemed to have when he touched her vanished and his movements turned eager, rapid. She sucked in a sharp breath; she was a rose on the verge of blooming. “Thane.” He shivered at his name on her lips, and she wrapped her body tighter around him in reaction.
“Let go, Laya,” his voice low, carnal in her ear, “let go.”
She could have been a shooting star, burning hotter and hotter, flashing brightest as it reached the crescendo of its final form before it slowly faded into darkness.
They held each other in heart-pounding silence, the fire crackling quietly in the background. She pushed wet hair off his forehead and then kissed his full lips gently.
“Damn,” he murmured with a smirk. “That was better than I remembered.” He sat back down in the tub, pulling her on top of him and ran his fingertips over her spine, eliciting goosebumps at his touch. “I love you, Laya.” He took hold of her hand and kissed the engagement ring he’d slid on her finger weeks before. “And one day soon, I will make it known to the world.”
