Mattie took a moment to just admire the line of his spine and the surprising breadth of his shoulders despite his lean frame. Under his baggy clothes, Dimitri was a well-built man.
She placed her hands on his back, and he shuddered.
"Cold?" she asked.
"No." His voice was strained. "I like the feel of your hands on me."
She smiled and began to work the soap across his shoulders, kneading the tension from his stiff muscles that must have been clenched for days. He groaned softly, head dropping forward, the sound sending a shiver of pleasure down her spine.
After months of cultivating the art of invisibility and mostly succeeding in being overlooked, the shift in perspective was intoxicating. She wanted to be seen and wanted by Dimitri, and she enjoyed making him feel good.
Her fingers found the edge of the bandage on his neck, the white gauze now damp and peeling at the corners from the steam.
"Can I take this off?" she asked.
"Go ahead."
She gently worked the tape loose, peeling the bandage away from his skin, and sucked in a breath at what she saw beneath.
Yesterday, this wound had been horrific—torn flesh, ragged edges, the kind of damage that should have required stitches and weeks of healing. Now the wounds were closed, scabbed over with dark crusts that looked days old rather than hours. The angry red inflammation had faded to pink, and new skin was already forming at the edges.
"Dimitri," she whispered. "This is impossible."
"What?" He started to turn his head.
"Don't move." She pressed her hand against his shoulder to keep him still. "Your neck. It looked so bad yesterday, and now it's almost healed." She traced a gentle finger along the edge of the largest scab.
"It must be the venom," he said quietly. "It has healing properties."
"This much?" She was shaking. "This isn't normal healing, Dimitri. This is something else."
She cupped water in her palm and let it run gently over the wound, washing away the last traces of dried blood and adhesive residue.
He held perfectly still, barely breathing.
"Does it hurt?" she asked.
"No. It itches a little, but it doesn't hurt."
She rinsed the wound once more, marveling at the impossible recovery. Apparently, an immortal's venom could do much more than kill people and provide intense sexual pleasure to their partners. It could also do serious healing. She knew next to nothing about chemistry or medicine, but she doubted that any other compound like this existed. If humans had found out about it, they would have hunted these immortals and bred them in farms so they could milk their venom and sell it.
Shaking her head, she banished the disturbing thought and concentrated on the man in front of her.
"There." She smoothed her wet fingers across his shoulders. "All clean."
Her hands moved lower, tracing the ridges of his spine, the curve of his lower back. She wanted to learn and memorize every inch of him.
"You're killing me, Mattie," he groaned.
She laughed and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. Impulsive. Unplanned. But when she did it, he made a sound that went straight to her core—low, hungry, and unguarded.
"Turn around," she said again.
He did, and this time she didn't look away from any of it. His chest, scattered with sparse dark hair, the flat plane of his stomach, the proof of his desire for her.
Heat flooded her cheeks, but she didn't drop her gaze. She'd meant what she said. She wasn't a blushing virgin. Just blushing.
"Do you like what you see?" He smiled despite the tension in his body.
