“Keep going,” I said. “Please.”
He resumed, circling the wound without touching it. Then his hands drifted lower, over my arms, my wrists, down to my fingertips. He briefly clasped my hands, then trailed back up, fingertips brushing my sides and breasts.
I shuddered with want so strong, it almost scared me.
He was too good at this. A jag of uncertainty went through me. “Dorian.”
“Yes?” His voice was a rasp.
“How many lovers have you had?”
He let out an amused breath. “Are you telling me I’m skillful?”
My lips curled. “Maybe.”
His hands slid down to my ribcage, right beside my breasts. “So you like this.”
I sucked in air. His fingers slipped under my breasts, plumping them, his thumbs circling close to my peaked nipples.
“I—”
“Yes, Eury?”
I barely recognized my breathy voice. “Please.” I wanted, needed his touch. “More.”
His thumbs kept on circling, and I arched toward them, desperate to shift the angle, just enough?—
When one thumb brushed my pebbled nipple, I gasped, an electric jolt spearing down my middle.
His other thumb followed—another jolt, another gasp. My head tipped back against his chest. A sudden, yawning emptiness had opened up inside me, and all I wanted was for him to touch me everywhere.
My right hand found his. I guided it down the center of my belly. When he reached the apex of my thighs, I pressed his hand lower.
He kissed the shell of my ear, his breath tickling as his fingers slid lower. My legs opened at his touch, and he traced my inner thighs, came maddeningly close to where I wanted him before his fingers darted away, along the crease toward my hips.
I let out a sharp breath. “Are you trying to torture me?”
“We Sylvanwild don’t call it torture,” he murmured by my ear. “More like thoroughness.”
I can do that, too.
My lips curled, and I turned over in the tub before he could stop me. We were face-to-face, steam rising between us and nothing else. My good hand came to rest on his abdomen beside his cock, the head of which pulsed just below the water.
I stilled, taking in his expression. He looked like he could barely restrain himself; the muscles in his neck were taut.
So this was what a man looked like when he wanted you this badly. Not like the day guard I’d slept with once—his eyes alight—but dark like a predator. Like he would devour me.
It thrilledme. It scared me.
My whole life, I’d walked toward frightening. Climbing the wall, joining the guard?—
I wanted what I feared.
I slid my fingers along his abdomen, tracing down toward his thighs and back up again. Avoiding, circling.
A low growl rumbled from him. “Keep doing that and we won’t be in this tub long.”
Good. I needed him wrapped around me like those nights inside the Eldermaze, needed his weight pressed over mine like he could anchor me back to my body. Like he could remind me what it meant to be held.
