Formidable, and also generous. She waved away his offer of payment for overnight lodgings. “You are our guests,” she said firmly. “It’s low season, anyway. We have plenty of cottages free.”
Then she wrinkled her nose, pointedly looking at his crumpled, soot-streaked uniform. “We also have excellent showers.”
He took the hint. A discreetly attentive staff member, Breck, showed him to a large, charming cottage , and politely but insistently waited until he handed over his filthy garments. From the way the man carried them away at arm’s-length, Ash suspected he was going to burn them rather than clean them.
Which left him trapped in the cottage with nothing but a towel. Shifting Sands might be a clothing-optional resort, but he was very much not a clothing-optional person. Especially not with Rose delightfully, insistently intruding into his thoughts every five seconds.
He took a shower. A very, very cold one.
He was still standing under the pounding water, attempting to scrub the soot from his hair, when he heard the cottage door open. “On the bed, please,” he called out, assuming—hoping—it was Breck returning with some form of clothing.
Instead, the warmth of the mate bond shone against his bare back like summer sunshine. “Only if you’re going to join me.”
He swallowed a mouthful of soapy water, whipping round so fast he nearly lost his balance. Rose smiled wickedly at him from the doorway of the bathroom. A short red dress caressed her curves and brought out the rich ebony of her skin.
“Or if you prefer…” She slid the thin crimson straps down over her soft shoulders. “I could join you.”
His mate, his mate.
“Yes,” he said hoarsely.
He just meant it as yes to her—yes, oh yes, always yes—but she took it as invitation. Her dress fell softly to the floor, puddling around her bare feet.
Desire leaped through him at the sight of her. And now, now she could feel the effect she had on him. Knew exactly how every inch of her arrested his breath and set his heart to pounding in his chest.
Her smile widened. She sashayed forward like the goddess she was, allowing him to worship her with his gaze. She stepped into the shower…and shrieked, leaping back.
“That’s cold!” she exclaimed, hugging herself. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. “Ash, why on earth are you taking a cold shower?”
Her indignation was adorable. He found himself grinning, foolishly. “Because I was thinking about you.”
She raised her eyebrows at him, an answering smile tugging at her lips. “Was it helping?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Her eyes flicked downward. Her smile crooked, delightfully. “So I can see.”
He reached for the shower dial,
twisting it to hot. At the same time, he let a little of his power rise, heating the air.
“If I promise to warm you up,” he murmured, as steam wrapped around them both, “will you still join me?”
“Mmm.” She stepped forward. “Close your eyes. You still have soap in your hair.”
Part of him—a very specific part—would much rather have pushed her up against the wall then and there. But the sweet anticipation singing down the mate bond told him that she was enjoying taking her time, drawing out the moment. And, truth be told, so was he.
He’d waited twenty years. But he found he could wait a little longer.
He tipped his head back under the hot water, closing his eyes. The hard peaks of her nipples brushed against his chest as she stretched up, and he bit back a growl. She laughed softly against his throat, kissing his collarbone.
“Wait,” she commanded. “Let me get you clean first.”
Her strong fingers worked through his hair. Her touch was simultaneously provocative and soothing, firing his blood even as his muscles relaxed. He stroked her in return, running his hands over the wet curves of her shoulders, her back, her hips.
Still keeping his eyes closed, he ducked his head. He didn’t need to be able to see to capture her mouth. She hummed in pleasure, tilting her face up to him, water running over both their faces.
He kissed the corner of her mouth, her jawline, the hollow behind her ear. “My turn,” he murmured.