Then she slid out of his arms and padded across the balcony toward her bedroom.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he called out, and the sound of his voice rumbled around her, causing a shiver of desire to bloom.
“I’m gross.” She spun, taking slow steps backward. “I need a shower.”
“Use the one in my room instead.”
“Is that an invitation, my lord?”
One dark brow arched before he said, “I’m fairly certain you know it’s a command.”
Maeve laughed. “Still trying to boss me around?”
“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”His voice was a dark whisper, a promise in her thoughts. She turned around, sauntered into his bedroom, intentionally letting her hips sway, enticing him to join her.
But despite undressing slowly and keeping a careful eye on the door, the minutes ticked by, and she found herself alone in the shower, with the hot water pouring over her in places she didn’t even know ached. Her back. Her arms and shoulders. Her calves and thighs. Gradually, the tension fled her body, her muscles softened, and she let her eyes drift close, content to let the strain and suffering she kept locked inside wash away.
She scrubbed her body, then shampooed and conditioned her hair so her curls soaked up every drop of moisture. Just as she was getting ready to shut off the water, Tiernan walked in.
Through a curtain of steam, he removed his clothing methodically, casually dropping each article on the counter. The more of his perfect body he revealed, the more Maeve’s stomach clenched in anticipation. Her nipples hardened and currents of hot desire coursed through her. The stream of water, once a relief, was now a powerful stimulant. It set her aflame with need. Every part of her—her breasts, her abdomen, the apex of her thighs—throbbed.
Tiernan inhaled sharply.
“Your scent,” he growled, opening the door and stepping inside the shower to join her, “is provoking me to do a number of unsavory things to you.”
“Is that a fact?” she asked, drinking him in.
She’d seen him naked before, but this moment, this time, was different. Rivulets of water sluiced down his golden chest, following the swirl of tattoos that covered his solid body. They clung to his abs and arms, following the dip of his hips to where his cock was bulging and ready to take her. Maeve had never been more jealous of water before in her life.
He shifted behind her, tilting his head back, letting the shower soak him thoroughly. He ran his hands through his midnight hair, shoving it back from his face. Maeve had never seen a god before, but she imagined they paled in comparison to the High King of Summer. He was chiseled, sculpted by the fates like some kind of deity. Glorious. Exquisite. Striking.
He looked down at her, the corner of his mouth curving. “You flatter me,astora.”
“Listening to my thoughts again, are you, my lord?” She grabbed a bar of soap and started lathering it between her hands.
He chuckled softly and the sound of it reverberated in her soul. “It’s difficult not to when you’re looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and he tracked the movement, his gaze darkening to a late summer storm.
“Like you can’t wait to have me inside you. Like you need me to live. To breathe.” He moved closer but she put her hands up, stopping him.
“Shower first,” she murmured. “Play later.”
Then she was washing him, running her hands over every inch of his hardened body, covering him in silky suds. She started with his shoulders, rubbing his arms and ribs, massaging his back, stomach, and thighs. When he groaned in relief, her blood simmered, catching fire. Staring up at him, she gripped his cock with one hand, jerking him in her slippery grasp.
He slammed his hands against the tile behind her, barricading her next to the wall. His forehead rested against hers.
“Is there something you want, my lady?” he ground out.
“I want whatever you’re willing to give me.” She spoke the words against his lips, where they hovered barely a breath away from hers.
“Everything,” he growled, rinsing off the soap. “I will give you anything you ask of me.”
One second, she was on the ground and in the next, her legs were locked around his waist, and she was anchored against the wall.
Tiernan slammed into her, and she cried out, holding onto him to keep from falling. With every thrust, he stretched her wider to accommodate his size, driving himself deeper until she could take every inch of him.
“So tight,” he muttered, kissing her while his tongue slid over hers. “Always so fucking tight for me.”