Jonas’s wicked fingers brought me to the ledge. One more step and I would fall into pieces. His thumb pressed against the apex of my thighs.
I shattered. Heat rolled up from my toes, through my chest, to my skull. One wave after the other left me locked in a bit of madness I didn’t expect. Cries of his name—as he promised—tangled with the frenzy of water sloshing over stones and skin.
I writhed and gasped and tried to mute noises. Jonas took them as his own when his mouth covered mine, tongues and teeth, he held me through the fall.
When he pulled back, I finally breathed again. “So that’s what it feels like?”
“With you? Yes.”
I would never get enough of his touch.
The green of his eyes was clouded with passion and need. Every limb was heavy, as though my veins were filled with wet sand. Hazy from release, I traced the bottom edge of his lip.
His fingers still remained inside me. When I tried to shift back, Jonas curled a hand around my waist under the water. “Can you stand for a moment?”
I didn’t think I would ever be able to move again, but nodded.
His hand remained between my legs; I bit down onto my inner cheek, still throbbing from my own release. The sensation of his fingers was almost too much. Jonas kept his hand in place until I wobbled on my weak legs, water dripping down my naked skin.
Only when we were out of the water did he remove his hand. Jonas helped leverage me back into the warmth of the bath.
Hovered over me, Jonas’s mouth curved into a wicked smirk. My eyes widened in a delirious stun when he took those two fingers that touched so well and placed them in his mouth. He sucked the taste of me off the tips, then slammed his mouth to mine, kissing me deeper than before.
“Didn’t want the water to wash away a single drop of you.”
Gods, I was at risk with this man. Any more of him, and I might fall, heart outstretched like a supplicant, an offering for him to take.
I slumped back against the edge of the bath, still trembling from the shock of pleasure he drew out from my body. My fingers went to his soaked trousers, strained from his own desire. “Now you.”
Jonas gripped my wrist, and lifted my palm to his lips, shaking his head. “Let me give you this, Skadi. Just you.”
My brow arched. “Why?”
Jonas kissed the tip of my nose, dropping his forehead to mine. “You spoke once like you would always be a sort of transaction to me. You’re not.”
The tears were unnecessary, but the bastards came all the same.
My entire existence was a barter. Be it for what my title brought for a man regarding the claim on Natthaven, or what my affinity could offer those who claimed me as theirs. I was always a piece in another plan.
Grandfather loved me, but it did not diminish that there was purpose in his moves regarding my life.
Jonas kissed my forehead, whispering against my skin, “Tonight was simply me wanting to please my wife.”
“What if I want to touch you?”
His eyes flashed. “I hope there will be many more opportunities.”
He meant what he said. Jonas didn’t leave me, nor did he try to claim his own pleasure, as though mine was enough for him. Wet trousers and all, he remained, washing my skin, following sometimes with kisses.
Jonas settled on the ledge of the basin behind me. My elbows were propped on his knees while he rubbed cleansing oils in my hair, sometimes pausing simply to trace the point of my ear, or press a kiss to the top of my head.
We talked. Welaughed.
He told me about ruins in the forest they called Jagged Grove, how he played there as a boy.
I told him of Stärnskott, a show of bursting stars over Natthaven each week. How there was a secret spot where I would watch the event.
The prince admitted he grew queasy watching the butchering of akill after a hunt, but he never told anyone, convinced they would start slaughtering deer and foxes at his feet.
