"Tomorrow," she interrupted, holding his gaze with promise, "you give me everything."
Heat flared in his eyes. Dark and wanting and full of promises that made her thighs clench.
He pulled her hands to his mouth. Kissed her knuckles one by one. Then her wrists, his lips lingering against her pulse point. The touch sent shivers through her even in the warm water.
More intimate than the kiss.
"Come on. Let's go to bed."
He stood, lifting her with him. Water cascaded off both of them, and she shivered as cool air hit her heated skin. He stepped out of the tub and reached for a thick towel, wrapping it around her with more care than necessary.
His hands lingered as he dried her. Starting with her arms, running the soft fabric over her shoulders, squeezing water from her hair. Every touch grounding.
She watched his face as he worked. The concentration. The tenderness. The Reaper who'd ruled for so long, treating her like something irreplaceable.
Then he grabbed another towel for himself, wrapping it low around his waist before sweeping her up into his arms.
She settled against his chest without protest. Her head found his shoulder naturally, like her body knew exactly where it belonged. His pulse beneath her cheek.
He carried her back to the bedroom. To the bed where he'd keptwatch. The reminder sent a pang through her. Forty-eight hours of him sitting there, refusing to leave, slowly coming apart.
He set her down on the edge of the mattress. "Stay here. I'll get you something to wear."
Weariness was creeping back in now, making her thoughts slow and her limbs heavy. The adrenaline from the kiss was fading, leaving only tiredness behind.
He found one of his shirts, a silk that would be far too large on her, and brought it back.
By then, she'd already lain down, unable to fight gravity any longer, the towel discarded beside her. She was on her side, eyes half-closed, fighting to stay awake just a little longer.
"Arms up."
She lifted them with effort, muscles protesting. He slid the shirt over her head and helped her get her arms through the sleeves. The fabric pooled around her, drowning her in silk and his scent.
He pulled on sleep pants. Nothing else. The fabric hung low on his hips, showing every line of his torso.
When she looked up, he was watching her. Eyes dark. Jaw clenched. Fighting the same battle.
Her cheeks warmed.
Then he climbed into bed beside her, and she didn't hesitate.
She wrapped herself around him immediately. Her head on his chest, right over his heart. Her arm across his waist. Her leg hooking over his, tangling them together.
He went still for half a second, like her touch surprised him, like he hadn't expected her to cling. Then his arms came around her, pulling her closer. Holding her tight enough that she could barely breathe, but she didn't care.
"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
His embrace tightened. "You almost did."
The words were quiet. Broken. Full of terror he'd been carrying alone.
"But I didn't." Her hand found his face, made him look down at her. "I came back. And I'm stronger now because of what you did."
He stared at her. Searching. His eyes were raw and exposed in a way she'd never seen before.
"I know," he said finally.
He pulled her closer again. One hand sliding up her back, the other cradling her head against his chest. Holding her like she was everything.
