My jaw dropped as her dress fell.
“Turn,” I whispered, begging like a madman.“Just a fraction.”
She didn’t.
Her bloomers slipped down next.
Even in the dimming light, her pale skin shimmered. Petite frame, yes—but those buttocks? Glorious. Round. Soft. Sculpted by a cruel and generous God. She gathered her hair over one shoulder, baring her back—her spine a delicate line I wanted to trace with my hand, my mouth—
When she bent for something, I leaned forward so sharply the branch creaked.
Ours, he growled.
A shiver cut through me.
She stepped into the loch. Slowly. Carefully. Of course she took her time—the water was frigid.
Fine.
More for me to watch.
Her back.
Her shoulders.
The elegant taper of her waist.
Those thighs—made to cradle—
She slipped beneath the surface.
“No,” I whispered harshly. A man denied a blessing.
Then her scent hit me.
It struck like a physical blow—sharp enough that my knees nearly gave out. I caught myself on a low branch before I toppled straight onto my arse. The beast inside me reared up with a guttural snarl of triumph, his voice curling through my ribs like smoke.Yes. She is ours. Mine. She will take our knot.
Hearing such filth in my own head made my vision swim.
I dragged a shaking hand through my hair, breath misting in the cold air as I fought for composure. God help me, even the simple act of her bathing was enough to reduce me to madness. The beast prowled behind my sternum, restless, insistent, his desire bleeding into my own with every pulse of my heart.Closer, he demanded.I want her scent on my tongue.
“No,” I bit out under my breath, jaw tightening until my teeth ached. But the refusal meant nothing—not to him, and increasingly not to my own body. My feet moved without my consent, one step forward, then another, the ground seeming to pull me toward her in slow, inevitable inches. I couldn’t tell who controlled me anymore. The man? The monster? Both?
All I knew was that the distance between us was shrinking, the scent of her growing sweeter, and the beast inside me was purring as though he had been waiting eons for this exact moment.
She lifted her hands to wash her hair, elbows raised, and I sucked in a sharp breath as the suds slipped over her shoulders. When she tilted back slightly, I caught the barest glimpse of her bosom—just the corner of one perfect breast—yet it was enough to unman me completely. My foot shifted on the slope. A twig snapped beneath my heel with a violent crack.
She startled, spinning so fast she lost her footing.
For one glorious, sinful heartbeat I saw them—both of them—two magnificent breasts flashing like pale fire before she plunged under the surface.
By the time her head broke the water again, I had already dropped into a crouch, shoving myself deep into the long grass. My heart thrashed painfully against my ribs. If she looked up—if she so much as glanced toward the trees—she would see me. She would know what I was doing. I couldn’t allow that. Not yet.
So I stayed low, breath held, watching her through the shifting blades of grass.
Brooding.
Silent.
