The dare in his tone sparked heat low in my belly. I’d spent years hiding behind clever words, magic, and my father’s expectations. To be seen this way, to be laid bare… It was a terror more intimate than any enemy’s blade.
“Then don’t let me hide,” I said softly.
The corners of his mouth curled, utterly dangerous.
His gaze burned into me, all fire and restraint, as though he held himself back by sheer will.
Water lapped around us, warm and slippery, carrying the scent of soap and him, and I braced one hand on his shoulder, my nails digging in enough to make him hiss. My other hand drifted over my body, hesitant at first, then bolder, tracing the valley between my breasts and down the slick plane of my belly.
“Like this?” I asked, my voice rough, unsteady, carrying a challenge.
He nodded, but I caught the hitch in his breath, the way his body stiffened under mine. My fingers circled one nipple, and I pinched lightly at first, rolling the peak between my thumb and forefinger. The sound he made—a low, ragged growl—sent a jolt straight through me.
He wrapped a hand around himself beneath the water, and I shivered. He was so intent, so utterly consumed by the sight of me.
I tightened my fingers on my nipple, tugging harder, using a small twist that made me gasp, the sound echoing off the stone walls. The water sloshed as I shifted, pressing my hips against nothing but the promise of him. My other hand joined in on the neglected breast, kneading both, my breaths short and jagged. Each movement made the peaks harden.
“Does it feel good?” he rasped.
“Better with you watching.” A tremor ran through me. My hand drifted lower. I hesitated for a heartbeat, my fingers hovering on my thigh, before I dipped them between my legs. I parted my thighs wider over his, and heat pooled deep, my body aching for release.
“Fates…” he groaned.
I stroked my clit, gliding my fingers in circles, teasing, coaxing, and the gasp that tore from my throat was an acknowledgement of how much I wanted him, how much Ineededhim, even as I fought falling over the edge.
I met his gaze, daring him to see every tremor, every twitch, every flush that ran across my skin. The fire in his eyes made me shiver and ache at the same time. I pushed my fingers deeper, pumping them in rhythm with the sway of my hips, letting him see how unrestrained I could be.
“Eyes on me,” he said, low and rough, slowing his hand enough to make my self-control coil tighter. I snapped my gaze to his, and his golden eyes darkened with need, reverent and hungry.
I obeyed, pressing and sliding, letting my fingers trace the places I knew would not only bring me pleasure but make him groan. Each movement, each whimper, each shudder seemed to feed him, but he held himself back, watching me, letting me own this. The thought of him holding himself back just to let me feel everything made me burn hotter.
I circled my nipple again, twisting it, tugging while arching my back, water sloshing with every movement. My fingers went back to my center, plunging deeper, rubbing, stroking, pressing until my body began to coil, trembling in the heat of my touch.
He groaned, and I could tell he was undone by watching me, by the way I so willingly surrendered. That knowledge made my pulse spike, my breaths coming in sharp, hot bursts. I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t stop.
The warmth of the water slicked against my skin, making every movement more electric, more desperate. His molten gaze held mine, every bit of him captivated by me. The fire in his eyes made my pulse spike; I was completely exposed, and helovedit. Or at least, I felt as if he did.
I let my fingers roam again, circling my nipples, pinching, twisting enough to make myself gasp. The sound came out broken, needy, a confession without words. He respondedwith a low, rough growl that vibrated through the water and through me, and my hips moved instinctively, pressing against nothing but the heat that pooled low, aching for release.
I could feel him beneath me, his hardness pressing through the water, aligning with the curve of my body. The awareness made my breath hitch, and a delicious flush ran through me. I was naked, dripping, trembling, and utterly daring myself to let him see every tremor, every shiver, every gasp.
“Fates, Isi…” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “You’re so beautiful.”
I swallowed against the lump in my throat, daring myself to admit how much I wanted him without saying it. My fingers went lower, sliding slick through the water, pressing against my center, and I let the gasp escape. I knew he felt it. Knew he’d seen it. Knew he’d taste it in the taut line of his jaw and the way his shoulders stiffened.
I pressed my fingers deeper, twisting them, stroking, letting the heat coil tighter with every shift of my hips. Water sloshed around us, carrying the sounds of our mingled breathing, my small moans, the soft splash of water. My other hand continued stroking my nipple, each tug sending lightning straight to my core.
He kissed my shoulder, trailing his mouth across and down my neck, brushing against the sensitive skin enough to make me shiver. I gasped, letting him watch, letting him see every raw inch of me. I wasn’t ashamed. I was daring myself to beseen, and the danger of that made my blood sing.
I tilted my head back, arching into him, giving way to my pleasure. My fingers pressed harder, stroking, circling, sliding slick through the water, and the gasp that tore from me was an admission. The edge of restraint was razor-thin, coiling tight inside me, and I wanted him to see it, to feel it, to know exactly how much I ached.
I rocked against my own fingers, water rippling around us, slippery and warm.
“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice rough, and I shivered again, parting my lips in a soft moan. I pressed back, letting him feel the need that pulsed with every thrust of my fingers, every shuddering rock of my hips.
He continued to stroke himself, pacing his hand to the thrust of mine. The way his jaw tightened, the way his breathing hitched, and the way his eyes darkened made me want to give more, to be bolder, to let him witness every flicker of heat and want. I let myself melt into the sensation, let my fingers plunge deeper, harder, let the slick water amplify every stroke.
The fire had begun to coil, tighten, and I teetered at the brink, every nerve alive, every pulse screaming for more. And still, I held myself shy of collapse, daring myself to stretch the moment, to let him see how utterly I could surrender and still remain bold, still remainme.
