Rowan carried me into the bath chamber, kicking the door shut behind us.
He’d shifted from devastation to desperation, from lost to found. His hands trembled with need as he lowered me into the filled marble tub, steam already curling in the air. Barbie had loved bathing here when she lived in the House of Chaos. She’d pray for patience and tolerance if she knew Rowan and I were about to bathe and fuck in this very tub.
Not that she could protest. We couldn’t hitch a ride in each other anymore.
“After that damn vortex took you,” my prince said, his voice raw, “and I couldn’t feel you anymore, I lost my fucking mind.” His fingers traced my jawline, rough with emotion. “I tried to hold it together, to keep Killian from losing his shit, and I still failed. I couldn’t think straight, fearing for you. That’s why I wasn’t prepared when I went to the court and walked right into that ambush.”
“The worst is over, sugar,” I said, though I knew it wasn’t true. It wouldn’t be over until Ruin was nothing but a memory. But in this moment, I’d whisper any sweet lie to soothe my lover. “And now you have me all to yourself. No Barbie peeking out, rushing us along.”
“She’s obnoxious in that way, isn’t she?” He chuckled, the sound low and warm.
I smiled, my heart lifting to see him laugh again. We had to be resilient. That’s how we survived. We didn’t stay down. We rose, again and again, and kept fighting.
The water wasn’t hot enough to scald but just enough to wash away the blood and lingering dread. Rowan slid in behind me, pulling me back against his hard chest. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub, and neither of us cared if Barbie’s room flooded. For the first time, she wasn’t here to put a stop to it.
A warm, glowing feeling swam through my chest, and I sighed, content. Finally, it was just Rowan and me.
For a long moment, we simply breathed together, wrapped in the quiet joy of being with each other after everything we’d gone through. His heart hammered against my spine, gradually slowing as peace settled over us. I was aware of every place we touched, my back against his chest, his powerful thighs cradling mine, his muscled arms wrapped around my waist as if he feared I might vanish.
I arched into him, and his hands began to move.
They started at my shoulders, reverent and tender. His thumbs worked at knots I hadn’t even known were there. “Mine,” he murmured against my neck.
“Yours,” I agreed, tilting my head to give him more access.
His lips found the curve where my neck met my shoulder, pressing soft kisses that sent sparks all the way to my toes. His hands slid lower, cupping my breasts, tracing every curve before kneading my taut nipples.
“My beautiful monster,” he breathed.
“Aren’t you going to wash me first?” I teased.
“Of course,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But with you, I can barely think straight. I miss you even when you’re right here. I think of you all the time when you’re gone.”
His hands cupped water, letting it cascade over my breasts before gently rubbing away the last traces of volcanic ash, sulfur, and dried blood. Each touch was a claim, each caress a promise of more and of forever. His fingers found my tit again, fondling it with a possessiveness that made my breath catch. I wiggled my hips, pressing the small of my back against his hard length, and drew a low, harsh groan from his chest.
“Keep doing that and I won’t last, little monster,” he warned.
I wiggled some more. “Keep doing what?”
He turned me in his arms and captured my mouth before I could tease him further. This kiss was different, a direct answer to my challenge. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, urging them apart. The moment I yielded, he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping in with possessive heat. The taste of mint and winter frost mixed with my own breath, utterly intoxicating.
I perched on his lap, the heat of his cock searing my skin, proof of how badly he wanted me. Yet he still held back, taking his sweet time to explore me as if he had all the time in the world.
“Sugar,” I gasped when we broke apart for air. “You need to speed up.”
“Not yet, little monster,” he half-laughed, his lips traveling down my throat. “Let me remember every delicious inch of you.”
“You can do it while fucking me,” I negotiated.
“Soon, I’ll fuck you and ruin your cunt for any other male,” he said.
He dipped his head, his mouth wrapping around my tit, tongue circling before teeth grazed my sensitive flesh. I criedout, fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving marks. He lavished the same attention on my other tit, sucking and biting until I writhed against him, until I couldn’t take it anymore and got my hand between my thighs.
“No, little monster,” he growled. “Only I get to touch you.”
His hand slipped between us, removed my hand, and palmed my cunt. His fingers worked on me, knowing what made me gasp, what tickled me. His thumb brushed my clit with care, and I nearly came apart right there.
“Not yet,” he commanded.
