I shrugged.
“Bartholomew,” he growled. “It’s dangerous.”
“I went to get snow. Nothing else. I’m fine.”
“I would have gone with you,” he said, dragging me between his spread legs and holding me against his chest.
I draped my arms over his shoulders. “You would’ve insisted on hauling the snow and hurt yourself.” Mindy started to protest, but I covered his mouth. “Don’t deny it.”
His lips pursed against my palm, and my mouth went bone dry as I recalled the feel of his tongue on me. My hand slowly slid down, and he chased my touch before snagging my hand.
“Please don’t do it again,” he said. “I’m scared of something happening to you.”
“I will be careful.”
Serlotminden frowned, chest rumbling.
“Fine, I won’t go outside without you. Happy?”
Mindy yanked me flush against him, our hips slotted together. “Now I am.”
Heat swarmed my cheeks. I wiggled out of his hold. “Come on.”
We returned to the cabin, and he went right to the bowls of snow. He could literally create fire with his mind. I hardly believed it, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to question it. I needed to get clean, badly. He pressed his hand against the metal, and flames burned in his palm, turning the metal red from the heat. I kept a close watch on him to make sure Serlotminden didn’t overtax himself. It wasn’t worth a bath, as much as I wanted one.
When his breath turned harsh, I gripped his arm. “That’s enough.”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Please.”
His resolve crumbled right before my eyes. “I don’t want to worry you.”
“Then sit.” I had to help him, but he settled onto a stool I’d dragged in earlier. “You’re going to need help bathing.” He couldn’t do this by himself, and my fingers tingled at the thought of touching him.
“You don’t mind?”
“No.” I reallyreallydidn’t. I mentally slapped myself.Don’t be creepy. He was taken and injured. Just because he was hot, it did not give me permission to ogle him.
I carefully peeled off his shirt and set it aside. I would dig out fresh clothes for him to wear after he was clean. With the hot water, I wet one of the towels I’d found and wiped his chest. He was formed with tight muscles and hard scales. The injury at the side exposed his mottled white and gold skin. New royal-purple scales, small ones, had started to regrow. After some time, they would probably cover the injury.
Back, wings, arms, and face, I washed him with the soapy towel before cleaning the soap off. I glanced at his pants. “Should I?”
“Sure,” he replied, voice tight, as his tail thrashed, nearly smacking me. I helped him stand before undoing the ties on his pants. Thank god, he was wearing briefs. I didn’t need to see what he was packing. I tried to focus on my task as I cleaned his legs, feet, and tail. Serlotminden took short breaths, his hands fisted on his thick thighs, while I scrubbed his tail. The closer I got to his firm ass, the harsher his breath became.
I had to be hurting him. He must have damaged something in the crash. Fuck. There was nothing I could do about that. Literally nothing.
Once he was clean, I said, “Let’s get you dressed.”
I fished out a clean pair of underwear, pants, socks, and shirt. He was shivering violently from the cold, but he was clean, except for his hair. I held up his briefs, looking anywhere but him.
Serlotminden took the black briefs from me. I heard some shuffling mixed with pained grunts. I tried to keep my gaze averted, but I couldn’t when he released a high-pitched whine. I shifted to help him and froze. A taut ass topped by his tail and two perfect dimples greeted me.Fuck me. My fingers twitched, longing to touch him. My thumbs would slot into those dimples; I was sure of it, and I wanted to try.
He struggled to pull his briefs on and bent over, letting me see his large dick and his heavy balls. The crown of his cock was triangular shaped and wide. The entire thing was covered in delicate scales. He was thick, even without being erect. Much bigger than me or any other humans’ I’d seen.
I ripped my gaze away before he caught me staring. Warmth burned my stomach, and my heart pounded in an uneven rhythm. Why him? Seriously, why him? And why now? I was twenty-four years old, and he was the first person who I actually knew that I was sexually attracted to.
I’d known I was demisexual for almost as long as I’d known I was gay, and I’d had many close friendships, none closer than Vince, and nothing. No one had done it for me, and I hadn’t stressed about it. If I’d never had sex or fallen in love, I was still me, and that was more than enough. Besides, I loved the messy yet perfect romances that I found in the pages of my books.
