“Roman,” I breathed, the sound trembling with desire.
“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, stepping into the water with a grace that belied his size. “My greatest temptation.”
He moved behind me, his chest pressing against my back, hard and unyielding, a stark contrast to the soft curve of my body. His hands found my hair, threading through it with a gentle tug that sent a jolt of heat straight to my core. The herb-scented soap lathered under his hands, and he began washing me, his touch reverent yet teasing.
The scent of wildflowers and rain wrapped around us, but it was his touch that consumed me. His hands moved over my shoulders, down my arms, across my breasts. He lingered there, his fingers kneading the sensitive flesh, his thumbs brushing over my aching nipples until I gasped, arching into him.
“God, Roman,” I moaned, my voice heavy with need.
He tilted my head back, his lips finding the sensitive curve of my neck. He kissed me there, his tongue flicking over my skin before his teeth scraped in a way that made me shiver. His hard cock pressed against my lower back, the heat of it branding me even through the water.
“Do you feel what you do to me?” he growled, his voice rough with desire.
“Yes,” I whispered, my thighs parting instinctively under the water.
His hands slid lower, tracing the curve of my waist, and my hips, before slipping between my thighs. His fingers found me slick and ready, and he groaned, the sound low and guttural.
“You’re soaked for me,” he murmured against my ear, his fingers sliding inside me with deliberate slowness. “So tight… so perfect.”
I cried out as he began moving his fingers, his strokes unhurried but devastatingly precise. His thumb found my clit, circling it in a rhythm that had my breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Roman,” I moaned, reaching back to grasp his thigh, desperate for more.
“Not yet,” he said, his voice a sinful tease. He withdrew his fingers, earning a whimper of protest, only to turn me to face him.
The water rippled as he pulled me onto his lap, the hard length of him pressing against my core, tantalizing but just out of reach. He cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip before he kissed me—a kiss that was all-consuming, devouring.
His lips moved from mine, trailing down my neck, my collarbone, until they found my breast. He took the swollen peak into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it before his teeth grazed just enough to make me cry out.
“You’re addictive,” he murmured against my skin, his voice rough, raw.
His hand found its way back between my legs, and this time, there was no teasing. His fingers plunged into me, deep and demanding, curling to find that perfect spot inside me that made me see stars.
“That’s it,” he growled, his thumb pressing against my clit, his pace quickening as my body arched into him. “Come for me, Olivia. I want to feel you shatter.”
And shatter I did. My climax hit me like a wave, powerful and all-consuming, leaving me trembling in his arms, my cries echoing in the steamy air.
As I slumped against him, breathless and boneless, he cradled me, his lips brushing over my temple. But the hard, insistent press of his cock against my belly told me he wasn’t done.
“We’re far from over,” he whispered against my lips, his erection pressing insistently against me. “This is only the beginning.”
Lifting me from the bath with the ease of a man accustomed to wielding both blade and love, Roman cradled my still-quivering body against his own. Rivulets of water cascaded down our skin, mingling as if reluctant to part from the warmth of our touch. With one arm securing me, he reached for the sun and moon daggers, their hilts cool against his fingers as he gathered them from the nearby stand. His gaze swept through the foggy tendrils of steam filling the room, ensuring our privacy remained intact before carrying me toward the door.
“Okay, it’s safe,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that heightened my senses. He carried me out of the washroom and back into the seclusion of our chamber. The door clicked shut behind us, and I felt the distance between us and the world widen with every step.
Baby Luna lay in peaceful slumber, her tiny chest rising and falling rhythmically, undisturbed by our return.
Roman laid me on the bed, our damp, heated bodies imprinting the sheets like a brand. With deliberate care, he set the sun and moon daggers on the floor beside us—close enough to reach, yet forgotten for now. His eyes burned with a wild mix of mischief and feral hunger, his body hovering over me like a predator savoring prey. The weight of his gaze alone was enough to send a pulse of heat straight to my core, my thighs parting instinctively in invitation.
Without a word, he lowered himself between my legs, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, his stubble leaving the faintest, tantalizing burn. His hands slid up my legs, spreading me open with firm, possessive confidence. His breath ghosted over my center, the anticipation alone enough to make me tremble.
“You’re already soaking for me,” he murmured, his voice thick and approving. “I could devour you all night.”
And then he did. His tongue darted out, the first touch soft and teasing, like the flick of a flame. He circled my clit, slow, deliberate, his lips closing around it to suck lightly, then harder, pulling a broken moan from my lips. His mouth was relentless, his tongue alternating between gentle strokes and fierce, insistent laps that sent bolts of electricity shooting through my body.
“Fuck, Roman,” I gasped, arching off the bed, desperate for more, desperate for him to push me over the edge.
He didn’t relent. His fingers joined the assault, sliding into my wet heat with ease, curling upward to find the spot that made me see stars. His thrusts were deep, precise, in perfect harmony with his tongue against my clit.
