His gaze clashes with mine as he steps forward into the spray, pulling me close, his hands running the length of my spine, up into my wet hair, down to my lower back, and tracing back up to my neck, setting my body on fire.
His lips stop a breath from mine, lips that utter words of hope and regret. “I would give anything to change what happened, Asha.”
“Then let’s choose our future,” I say, closing the gap between us and brushing my lips to his. The contact sends a shock of pleasure straight to my core, so intense that I gasp against his mouth.
He freezes, and in that heartbeat, I comprehend that I kissed his full lips. No sharp tooth to keep me at a distance.
I lean inward, my body already plastered against him, my face turned up to his. I trace the contours of his cheeks and jaw, brushing the hair from his temples before I trail my fingertips to the corner of his mouth where his tooth used to be.
All the while, he stays perfectly still.
Then, with a groan, his lips meet mine.
Skin on skin. The contact drives every doubt and fear from my mind, a heady pleasure filling my body with need.
His hands tangle in my hair. My hands grip the back of his head. The water mingles with our kiss and splashes against my eyelashes, droplets slipping down my arms and legs.
Pressing against him, I drag my hands down his back, holding tightly, needing him closer.
For a moment, I’m aware of the light and dark in my left palm, the metal barrier between his skin and mine, but then my consciousness of it vanishes, overtaken by the force of his kiss and the desperate need building within me.
Before I can second-guess myself, I reach for the hem of my tunic and slip the material up over my head while staying as close to him as I can.
My bare chest crashes back into his and he catches me, pulling me close again. His hands knead my back, sending warmth spearing through me, while his mouth travels to my chin and down my neck, following the droplets to my chest.
When his mouth closes over my breast, his tongue swirling against my nipple, heat fills my head. I lose myself as he kisses and strokes every inch of my wet skin, from my breasts to my hips.
I take everything from the contact, every strike of heat, every slow burn of sensation. All of it heightened as I explore the shape of him, my hands traveling across his shoulders, his chest, up his neck, down his back, my fingertips tracing his scars and the skin in between them.
I’m conscious of the blood running off us both. Conscious of the way the water drives it from his body and mine.
Until he’s kneeling in front of me, paused where one hand rests on the new scars across my side. The stab wounds.
He looks up at me then and my breath catches at the darkness in his expression. The tension in his jaw. The snarl on his lips.
But the way his focus is on my healed wounds tells me his anger is not aimed at me.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, my fingertips gliding through his hair.
The growl in his throat only grows deeper and the shadows in his eyes only increase. Maybe I should be afraid, but fear is the furthest emotion from my mind.
My hair swishes to the side as I tilt my head, a whispered question on my lips. “What do you want from me?”
“All of you,” he snarls. “I want all the beautiful and all the dark. All the fear and all the rage. All the warmth and all the hurt. All the kindness and all the cruelty. All your strength and all your vulnerabilities. I want itall.”
I teeter on the edge of a precipice and I’m not sure if I’ll crash on the other side.
I choose my response carefully, and I mean it with all of my heart. “Then give as much as you want to take.”
He doesn’t hesitate another moment, his mouth closing over my center. His tongue finds my core and a fire ignites within me.
Moaning, I brace against him, gasping as his tongue moves on me, stroking my body into a frenzy of need.
When my hands close around his shoulders, he pulls away from me, rises to his feet and draws me out of the spray, kissing the water from my lips as he carries me back to the bed.
I wrap my legs around him and my arms around his neck, my lips pressed to his, taking his breath and giving him mine.
I’m not sure when my back meets the bed, only that he hasn’t stopped touching me. Not even to remove his pants. His mouth demands access to my body from my neck to my breasts to the sensitive nub between my legs until my breathing is rapid and my exhales have become moans.
