“Partner,” Rhyan said. “Why don’t we get cleaned up, and relax. I could—I could really use a shower.”
I nodded, relieved. “Me, too.”
“Then,” he said. “Then we’ll figure the rest out.”
We headed for a closet where we removed our weapons and armor. The green shard, Rhyan’s golden armor, my sword, and the red shard were set down carefully. I used my stave to create an additional ward, and then Rhyan took my hand, leading us into the bathing room and turning on the shower faucet.
I stared at him, half naked in the firelight. His skin looked soft and inviting, the muscles on his chest and abs somehow sharper and more defined. My mouth went dry as my gaze lowered down to his exposed waist and hips. His pants were hanging dangerously low, exposing the V that vanished beneath his waistband.
“You’re not hurt,” I said, unable to stop myself from reaching for his chest, flattening my palm against his heart. I needed to feel his warmth, feel his heart beating. “I stabbed you.”
He flinched. “I remember.”
I placed my other hand on him, sliding them down slowly to his hips. “You have no marks at all.” Not even from the stripping whip. I remembered those—every single hateful stripe that had been branded onto his body, every place where he’d been invaded by Kunda, where the whip had scoured inside him, tearing out his magic. “Nothing,” I said, still in awe. Was this an effect of turning back from being akadim? Or had the light of the Valalumir healed more than that?
“No,” he said, his voice growing hoarse, and looking down. His throat bobbed as he followed the path of my hands, my fingers sinking into his flesh, my palms moving lower. “But if you keep touching me like that,” he said, “this is going to be a very short shower.”
My breath hitched. “You’re so beautiful.”
“So are you,” he said, and reached for my tunic. “Can I take this off?”
I nodded. “If I can take these,” I said, my fingers already unlacing his pants.
He reached for the hem of my tunic, hauling it over my head and throwing it on the floor, and immediately, he started tearing at the bindings over my breasts as I shoved his pants down.
His cock sprang free, already thick, and hard. I gasped, and felt his gaze on mine as I took all of him in with hungry eyes.
“Did you miss this?” he hissed, pushing his pelvis forward.
“Yes,” I said, and wrapped my fingers around him, stroking him from base to tip.
He closed his eyes, a small noise of pleasure escaping his lips, before his eyes snapped open, watching me stroke him again andagain, reveling in how silky he felt. He quickly stepped out of the rest of his pants, his eyes on my bare breasts.
Suddenly, his lips were on mine again, his tongue pushing into my mouth as steam from the shower billowed around us, the reflection in the mirror over the sink basin distorting as it filled with fog.
I started to pulse between my legs, my inner walls already clamping down in anticipation of him as molten heat pooled between my thighs.
He cupped my breasts with both hands, his thumbs sliding over my already sensitive nipples.
“Gods, I missed these,” he said. “And you. All of you.” His chest heaved, his hips suddenly bucking beneath my ministrations. I had both hands on him now, twisting the head of his cock as I cupped his balls. I couldn’t get enough of him. The way he felt, the way he looked. The sounds he was making, the way his hips were moving with urgency, as he fucked himself into my hands.
Cursing under his breath, he stilled, and gently pulled my hands away. “I need to see you. I need to see all of you,” he said, his accent now thick and guttural.
My bottom half was still completely covered, and now he was the one kneeling before me, unlacing my boots, and pulling them off my feet, before rolling down the socks beneath and tossing them into the corner.
He looked up at me, his emerald eyes blazing with fire as his hands reached for my waist, his fingers tangling in the laces. One swift tug and they’d come untied. He hungrily reached for my pants as well as my underclothes, shoving them down in one move.
I shuddered, startled at being completely naked again before him. My skin was heated and my arousal started to slide down my leg.
The look Rhyan was giving me though—it was everything, full of awe and wonder, and lust, and devotion.
And love.
He blinked rapidly, his eyes darting over every inch of my skin, like he didn’t know where to look first—like he couldn’t take enough of me in.
I was doing the same to him, drowning in the sight of his body. His body was so beautiful to me, even more magnificent than I remembered. Because it was his. Because his soul was inside it. Even without an aura, he seemed to glow, lit up with his own kindness and goodness and passion and love.
He was kneeling now before me, and pulled my foot onto his lap. He kissed my knee, his hands sliding up my thigh, pulling my leg closer as his lips followed the path, moving higher and higher.
