Before I can give in to my impulses and rock against him, he sweeps both of his arms around me, lifting me while my legs are wrapped around his hips.
When he carries me to the bath, I’m not surprised that it begins to fill at our approach, gentle steam floating up off the surface of the water.
He turns me to face the bath, remaining close behind me as he pulls up my tunic, taking his time to lift it over my head, his fingers stroking the skin across my back as he exposes every inch of it. Then stroking down my thighs as he pulls my pants to my feet, undressing me slowly, planting kisses against the backs of my legs on his way back to a standing position.
He breaks the contact between our bodies only for a moment to remove his own clothing, swiftly dispensing with his tunic and pants before closing the gap between us again. His kisses swirl against my left shoulder, stopping at the base of my neck wherehe pushes aside my hair so his mouth can travel higher, gently nuzzling my earlobe.
With every touch of his hands and tongue, shocks of pleasure strike through me, forces of energy that make my thighs clench and my breathing hitch. Especially when his hands brush across my stomach again, easing upward a little, then downward a little, caressing the base of my breasts and the top of my pelvis but refraining from traveling any higher or lower.
My nipples are hard, aching for his touch, and my core feels heavy with desire.
Slipping his hand around mine, he steps into the bath before reaching over to lift me into it. In the moment before his arms capture me, I take in the full nakedness of his body, all of his muscles, and the hard need that he must be keeping at bay.
Easing us both down into a sitting position, he maneuvers me so that I’m facing away from him and resting between his legs, at which he reaches for a cloth and begins washing me. Starting with my back, he runs the wet material around my neck and shoulders, trickling water down across my breasts, nudging me forward so he can rub my back before easing me back against his chest again.
With long, maddening strokes, he washes my arms before finally reaching down to clean my thighs, but only the outside of them, before he pulls my knees to my chest so he can reach my calves.
It is both thrilling and agonizing.
How slowly he touches me. How he avoids any part of me that might ease the intense burn that has built in my core. How he takes his time running his tongue from my ear to my shoulders, pressing me forward again so he can kiss my lower back.
Despite the water lapping at me, threatening to sweep my own wetness away, my core is only growing wetter.
My breathing is rapid by the time he growls, low and soft. “Move to the other end of the bath.”
I trust him completely, sliding through the water to the other side and turning to face him.
As soon as the contact between us breaks, he sets about cleaning himself, washing his hands, scrubbing at the hints of blood on his neck, even leaning forward to immerse his hair in the water.
But when he emerges, he stares ruefully at the water. “I should have told you to get out.”
It’s true.
He must have cleaned the worst of the blood off himself in the stream because I didn’t realize until now that there was still so much blood on him.
Now, it’s swirling through the water toward me.
Without fuss, I rise to my feet, lifting myself away from the evidence of his battles moments before the bloodied water can reach my pelvis. Now, only my calves are immersed.
“Better?” I ask softly, staying right there in full view.
The regret leaves his eyes and his heated gaze passes from my face all the way down my body to the water’s surface and then back up again. “Much.”
He, too, rises upward, shaking himself off like the wolf he is, standing opposite me, droplets of crimson water dripping off him.
As I take in the scars on his body and the moisture on his skin, my eyes widen.
In an instant, I’m transported back in time. I’m standing on the balcony outside my tower. He’s there with me, and we are enemies again. Him and me. Wolf and Blacksmith. Droplets of blood falling between us.
I’m suddenly sobbing.
I want to go back, even more desperately than ever. I need to go back to the moment when he found me unconscious in the snow. I want to have woken up. I want to have seen him.
I want to have run away with him, choosing a different future and leaving all the darkness behind.
“Asha.” His voice is broken.
I’m crying too hard to see past my tears, but I hear the waterswooshas he gets out of the bath.
