Crimson Warrior (Onyx Assassins 3)

Within a heartbeat or two, the water warmed, rising to our body temperature and then a few degrees hotter. The sudden influx of warmth was heavenly, but it sure as fuck wasn’t helping my body settle down. You should have left it on cold. Not that it would have done any good. The closer I got to Olivia, the hotter my blood ran, and right now was no exception.

My cock didn’t get the memo that we were both covered in mud and fully clothed. The taste of Olivia was still branded on my tongue, the sound of her moans on constant playback in my head. I was a live wire, and being this close to her after we’d just decimated every other mated couple in that race had me harder than the marble in this shower.

We’d been flawless on that course, our fumbles only serving as levity in an otherwise impossibly tense situation. It was always like that with Olivia. I’d never met a woman that could make me hard in the same instant she made me laugh. I liked it—liked her—and that was fucking dangerous to both of us.

“You are a mess, Olivia Sorokin,” I teased, my voice tight as the mud dripped off us both, splattering on the tile beneath our ruined shoes.

“You’re one to talk.” She pivoted, turning us as she smiled sweetly—that alone should have warned me—then reached for the handle beside us and turned on the second set of jets, which pelted the back of my head and neck with a jolt of freezing water, causing me to gasp before the warmer stuff caught up.

“Devious female.” I leaned my head back into the jet to clear the majority of mud from my hair as she did the same. I tried to keep my eyes closed, but they wouldn’t obey. My gaze remained locked onto her lithe frame, her rose-hued lips, and the rise of her breasts as she arched back into the stream of water from her jets.

“Just trying to help you get clean.” She lifted her brows at me, mischief dancing in those gorgeous brown eyes. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but you resemble a swamp monster right now.”

“Well, you didn’t tell me that your little gauntlet resembled a monster truck rally, and besides, a little mud was worth getting you those emeralds.” I pulled the hem of my shirt up over my head, tugging harder when the wet fabric resisted. A quick toss through the open shower doorway, and it landed in the empty bathtub with a thwack.

“It was,” she said, her voice catching a little as she stared at my abs.

Maybe Olivia wasn’t quite as indifferent to me as I thought, but again, there was no hint of desire in her scent. But maybe I’d lucked out, and the mud would mask mine, which I knew had to be flowing heavier than that incense Genevieve, the witch queen, insisted burn at Conclave.

My shoes and socks came off next, both a hundred times harder to remove with the water and mud clinging to them. Thud. Thud. Thwack. Thwack.

Thud.

I glanced at Olivia, who was stripping off her shoes and throwing them into the tub the same way I had. At least we were being considerate for cleanup purposes.

This is such a bad idea. Logically, it was a given that Olivia would strip down the same way I was, but knowing it and seeing it were two different things. My blood ran hotter with every article she removed, and so far, I could only see her damned toes.

Keep your eyes to yourself. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. We should have talked about what had happened between us in the library—to be honest, I’d avoided the topic like the fucking plague, and now it was biting me in the ass.

A week ago, I could have sparred with her, showered with her, or even used my bare hands to work out her tense muscles as nothing more than a friend, but that was before I’d tongue-fucked her to orgasm…twice. I’d crossed a line, pure and simple, and my dick wouldn’t let me scurry back across it to the professional zone. It wanted more of her. More of her moans. More of her slick heat sliding down my throat. More of her thighs going tight as she found her pleasure.

Stop before you lose control like a sixteen-year-old male. Act your fucking age. She’s not interested. Just because she’d orgasmed didn’t mean she’d want another go. Hell, I’d only been able to scent her desire once I was already between her thighs, which could have just been her body reacting the way most females did when an Onyx Assassin was that close. Genetics and pheromones were a bitch, and members of the Order put out more than average.

I reached for my zipper, and Olivia looked away, struggling with her own pants.