“That was so fucking hot, sugar.” I grinned back at her. Shameless as hell. And looking forward to what came next.
So was Zion, whose side of the maul bond was no longer completely free of jealous thoughts.
His brown gaze darkened on her. “Quite the show, sweetheart.”
Then he stood up, gaze locked on Bell like she was something his bear was hunting.
“I believe the second act belongs to me.”
31/
sunday morning
BELL
I woke up in a bright room on a mattress much firmer than the one in my loft. Somewhere in the distance, theChrysanthemumcast was singing about what they’d do when they reached the north. And instead of wearing one of Zion’s button-ups, I was completely naked.
And sore. Like, really, really sore.
A flash of panic seized my chest.Did Dennis?—?
No. No, that was a different kind of sore. The bad kind. Brittle and bruised.
This sore was more lush: tender thighs, swollen lips, aching pinched nipples, and a core that didn’t feel brutalized, but claimed. Thoroughly, deliciously claimed.
And then the memories hit.
Ravik. The table. His eyes glowing gold as his hips rolled between my legs….
Oh god, it had felt so good, but…
Heat flooded my entire face as I remembered how wild and out-of-control I’d been. Then my entire body when I remembered the awkward aftermath of realizing what I’d done. With an audience!
“I believe the second act belongs to me.”
That’s what Zion had said, eyes dark with promise.
“Bath first,” Ravik insisted. He pulled out with a dip of his head, looking almost shy after the way he’d rocked my world. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” he said, voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “But that couldn’t have been easy on your body.” He glanced at Boone. “Follow me.”
He wasn’t trying to tell me what to do, but everyone fell in line like good soldiers. Ravik giving orders. Boone following through. Zion rushing ahead to the downstairs bedroom’s ensuite bathroom like someone who’d been given life-or-death mission orders.
Boone scooped me up in his arms. “Bath time, sugar.”
The next thing I knew, Boone was lowering me into a free-standing porcelain tub Zion had already filled with water that was not too hot, not too cold. Just right.
There were some apologies from Ravik about not having any bubble bath or Epsom salts. “I’ll get some tomorrow,” he vowed, as if it was a huge personal failure on his part not to have predicted that I would swing by for a session of sex on top of his kitchen table today.
“Don’t worry about it. The warm water feels amazing,” I assured him, laying my head back against the tub’s lip. Still, I had to tease, “I guess bears don’t get sore.”
“No, we don’t,” he murmured, stroking my cheek while Boone began cleaning me with a warm washcloth.
And then... nothing.
Oh god, not again. Did I fall asleep in the bath like I did the last time back in my Minneapolis apartment?
Also... where am I?
An argyle duvet covered the bed I was lying in, and the dresser—which matched the one in my cottage—was topped with stacks of books and a few plays.
