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A small smile touches his mouth. “I’m glad. Go on, stretch your legs. Make yourself comfortable.”

Ciaran peels his shirt over his head. Every easy movement sends muscle rippling across his chest, shoulders, and arms beneath the ink, the wildcat stretching to life across his pecs as though it might leap free at any moment.

My stomach drops. He’s devastating.

Dark eyes lift to meet mine as he reaches for the button of his jeans. “Still pretending you’re not staring, mouse?”

I swallow hard, the water swirling around my chest suddenly feeling suffocating. “You are impossible.”

“Mm, but you’re not looking away.” A smirk touches his lips as he pops the metal button, the rasp of the zipper cutting through the steam. He pushes the denim down his thighs and kicks it aside, leaving him in nothing but dark boxer briefs.

And no, I’m not looking away. How can I when he bites his lower lip, eyes bright with amusement as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband?

“There’s enough room for both of us,” he says.

“Yes,” I croak, my own cock growing heavy and throbbing beneath the warm water.

He drags the fabric down, letting it fall to the floor. The motion frees him, and his hard cock springs upward, curving against the flat muscle of his belly. The sight makes my throat tighten, heat coiling low in my gut as he steps into the bath, naked and owning the space between us.

Every time I think I’ve grown used to him, he proves me wrong.

Some part of me still can’t believe he’s mine.

His gaze drifts over me where I sit submerged in the water, lingering long enough to make my pulse stumble.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his tone turning serious.

My throat tightens. “Ciaran⁠—”

“You have no idea what you look like when you look at me like that.” He settles in behind me and pulls me back against his chest. Water sloshes over the copper brim, splashing onto the stone floor.

I gasp as his cock presses against my lower back, hard and warm despite the water. Strong arms wrap around my chest, drawing me back against his heartbeat until I am surrounded by heat.

He leans over my shoulder and kisses one nipple, licking it before catching it lightly between his teeth. Desire sparks through me. My fingers tangle in his hair as he repeats the attention on the other side, his mouth tracing a path down my skin.

I can’t just sit there and take it. I shift in the narrow tub, turn toward him, and lift a hand to his jaw, my palm settling against the rough scrape of stubble. He leans into my touch, and something deep inside me softens.

Ciaran’s hand curls around my wrist. “Fuck, mouse,” he mutters, guiding my hand down until my fingertips settle over the wildcat stretched across his chest. I trace the ink without thinking, following the curve of its shoulder.

“I like touching you.”

“I can see that. Do you have any idea what that fucking does to me?” He turns his head just enough to press a kiss into my palm. A rough laugh escapes him when I don’t answer, and he clicks his tongue. “Of course you don’t.”

I slip my arm around his shoulders, keeping him close as he turns his head and presses another kiss into my palm. His mouth lingers there before drifting higher, soft lips tracing the inside of my wrist, my forearm, my shoulder. I tilt my head without thinking, giving him the space he silently asks for. His lips find my throat next, then the corner of my jaw before finally claiming my mouth.

He kisses me slowly, nipping at my lower lip before coaxing me open. His tongue strokes lazily against mine until I shiver against him, breathing him in as though he might disappear if I stop.

When he finally pulls back, something in his expression catches me off guard. Devotion, raw and unguarded. It shines through the possessiveness until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

Catching my chin between his fingers, he angles me exactly where he wants it before his forehead brushes mine. “I’ll be your villain, baby.”

The words steal the breath from my lungs.

Then I’m not the victim in this story.

You’re my villain. That means I chose you.

“And you’ll be my melody. Sweet...” He reaches out of the tub, grabs a bottle of oil, and pours some into his palm before working it across my shoulder blades while I let him guide me forward, my eyes drifting to the golden tiles. “Like a flower. Do you have nightbells on Düren?”