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“I need you to promise me something,” Darien said as he got in the shower, shutting the door behind him. The closer he got, the more aware she became of him, the quicker the rest of the world melted away, leaving only the two of them. There was no room for anything else—just him. Him and her.

“Anything.” Her voice was breathy.

The last of the oxygen in the room went away as he stepped closer. “I want you to promise,” he began, crowding her to the farthest wall of the shower, “that you’ll always talk to me when something’s wrong.”

“I will,” she whispered. Her back met the wall, and her feet stilled. He flattened his hands against the stone on either side of her head and bent to kiss the edge of her jaw. They were close now, the hard peaks of her nipples rubbing against his chest, the warmth of his impressive erection pressing up against her stomach.

When she dared to look down, her mouth dried out, and her heart stumbled at least two beats. Maybe even three.

He passed his mouth over hers, the grazing of his lips making her shiver. “I need you to say it.”

“I promise.”

He dipped his hand between her thighs, fingers going straight to that area that would betray how badly she wanted him. “This is mine.” His voice was very deep, and when he looked up at her from under dark eyelashes, she saw that his eyes were solid black again, his expression feral.

When he pushed two fingers inside her, she stood on her tiptoes, fingertips digging into the wall at her back. He didn’t look away from her as he buried them in her heat, right up to the knuckles, the movement causing her ass to pillow against the wall. The sensation of his fingers rubbing inside her made her gasp, the soft sound carrying through the shower that suddenly didn’t feel as spacious as it had before.

And then he pressed a kiss to the skin right above her thundering heart. “And this?” he murmured. He looked up at her as his hand began to move, fingers dipping in and out, that area as slick as the shower walls. Strands of black hair hung in his face, moisture dripping off the ends.

“Yours.” She shuddered under his touch, her reaction causing his cock to twitch against her stomach.

“Do you want me to fuck this little pussy?”

Gods yes. But words escaped her as that wicked hand continued to move between her legs. A whimper rose in her throat, and she bit her lower lip. Somehow, she managed to nod.

He slid his fingers out of her, the sudden absence of his touch agonizing. He grabbed her by the thighs, hands wrapping nearly all the way around them, and lifted her up. “You liked it when I fucked you against this wall the other day,” he breathed, hooking her legs around his waist. “Didn’t you?” He dipped his head to her level, that mouth brushing across hers again, touching but not kissing. “Didn’t you?”

She wet her lips, legs tightening around his waist. “Yes.”

He lifted her up a little, one hand supporting her backside, while the other dipped between their bodies. He bent his knees and positioned his cock at her entrance.

And then he pushed himself inside her. Several inches at first, the intrusion causing her to shudder from anticipation. Anticipation—and a little bit of pain as her body adjusted to his size.

It was the pain he watched for—the pain that made him retreat, sliding nearly right out to the tip.

Her fingers fisted his hair, stopping him before he could pull out of her entirely. “Don’t you dare.”

A sinful smile ghosted across his lips. Again, he eased back into her, a little further this time. He didn’t take his eyes off her—not once.

“You okay?” he breathed.

She swallowed. “Yes.”

He drew back out. And then, slowly, he pushed himself back in, all the way to the thick base. She winced a little as he stretched her, filling her right up, not a hint of space between them.

“Sweetheart.” It was a question, and it echoed softly. When she looked up at him through the clouds of steam swirling around them, she saw that his eyes were blazing with need, yet gentle with affection.

“Keep going.” Her tone was as desperate as she felt. “I’m fine.”

She was fine. It was like this every time, the size of him in comparison to her causing them to move at a slow pace until she adjusted. But she loved it, loved how her body felt when he was deep inside her. She never stopped wanting it, never stopped wanting him.

One last time, he slid back out, lifting her body up with the movement, fingers digging into her thighs.

And then he plunged back into her. In and in and in. A groan slipped through his lips, mingling with a cry of her own, as he pushed himself in deep, burying himself in her until he couldn’t fit any more. She watched him as his eyes briefly shut with pleasure.

“Fuck.” His voice was dark. Rough as gravel. “You feel so good, sweetheart. Too fucking good.”

And then he gripped her hips with those big hands and began. At first, his movements were slow and careful, like they always were. Days had passed—weeks since their first time. But he hadn’t stopped treating her like this, hadn’t stopped being careful with her.