That was the crack that broke him open.
One hand gripped her ass, dragging her higher up his body, fitting her exactly where he wanted her. The other slid between them, his fingers finding the heat between her thighs, sliding through her slick folds with practiced confidence, like he knew what she needed—how to ruin her.
Her head fell back with a gasp, moan torn from her lips, echoing off the tile like a prayer half-forgotten.
“Fuck,” he growled, watching her fall apart for him. “You’re soaked—and it’s not the water.”
Her nails bit into his shoulders as he moved lower, mouth finding the swell of her breast, kissing and biting with a hunger that felt less like lust and more like reverence. Like desperation. Like she was the only thing anchoring him to this world and he was seconds from coming undone.
Raw. Ferocious. His.
“You don’t get it,” he muttered against her skin. “This isn’t a one-night thing. I’m not letting you walk away from this.”
She met his eyes—wide, wild, and lethal—and dragged her fingers through his dripping hair.
“Then don’t.”
God, that voice.
Low and rough and pleading.
And he snapped. Again.
Because how the fuck was he supposed to survive her?
He slammed back into her mouth, the kiss raw and punishing, hips grinding, hands greedy. And as she gasped into him—gone, shattered, already his—he made her a silent vow:This wasn’t the peak. This was the beginning.
And he’d make her feel it.
Every. Damn. Time.
Steam blurred the edges of everything, but not him.
Gideon pressed her harder into the tile, her back arching, her breath catching as the water trailed rivulets down her skin. His mouth followed one, trailing over the swell of her breast, his teeth catching on her nipple with enough bite to make her cry out—sharp, startled, desperate.
Her fingers clawed into his shoulders, holding on for dear life.
“Gideon—”
“I’ve got you,” he growled, the words a promise, a threat, a vow.
His name had never sounded so ruined.
His hand slid down again, claiming her like he’d always meant to. He didn’t ease in—he invaded, fingers thrusting deep, curling just right, hitting that spot that made her gasp like he’d stolen her air.
And maybe he had.
He watched her come apart, completely consumed.
“Look at me.”
She barely managed it—lashes wet, lips parted, every breath a moan—but she met his eyes, and he felt it.
The shift. The surrender. The trust.
He growled low in his throat, kissing her like he’d die if he didn’t, like the taste of her was the only thing tethering him to the earth.
Her thighs trembled, her body clenching around his fingers, hips rolling with a rhythm that belonged to no one but them.
