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His voice remained light when he gave me permission. “Go ahead, ask.”

“Please don’t laugh, but I honestly don’t know. Does a man’s erection always mean he... um, wants to have sex?”

He didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile, just cleared his throat, shifting a little.

“Not always. But often, yes. It does.”

“How about you? Right now? How are you feeling?”

“Does it matter how I feel?”

“Why not? I’d like you to enjoy your time with me as much as I’m enjoying spending it with you. How do you feel when I touch you?”

I placed a hand on his shin under the water but didn’t move it any higher, waiting for his reply. He’d known his share of unwanted touches. The last thing I wished was to force more on him.

“How far do you want to go with this, Princess?” His voice dropped to a low rumble.

“All the way.” I leaned closer, sliding my hand up to his knee. “If you let me.”

He gripped the edges of the tub with both hands. Water splashed and sloshed around us as he sat up straighter.

“May I?” I ran my fingers along a thick corded muscle in his left thigh. “Give me a sign, Salas, say a word, and I’ll stop,” I echoed his own words to me.

He let my hand travel up his thigh unimpeded, but as my thumb brushed by his shaft, he sucked in a breath.

I halted my advances.

“Don’t stop, Princess,” he rasped. “Whatever you do, just please don’t stop. I can’t do anything halfway with you.”

“All right then. All the way it is.”

I braced against the onslaught of dark memories when curling my fingers around his girth. But the sensation was incomparable to anything I’d ever touched before.

Everything about this man was solid and well-built—from his character, to his heart, to every part of his body, including his cock. Some curious shapes seemed to be inserted just under the delicate skin of his hard length.

He tossed his head back, gripping the edges of the bathtub with both hands as I explored his body.

“What’s this?” I tapped with my fingers along the hard ridge at the base of his cock in the front. My thumb slid over a row ofround bumps on the underside of his shaft. “Were you born with these? I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

“Of course, you haven’t.” He groaned softly, either from pleasure or pain.

“Does it hurt?” I jerked my hand away.

He scrubbed a palm down his face before looking at me again. “I wasn’t born with these, Princess. A warlock with questionable skill and reputation did it, using fish bladders, liquid onyx, a few magic spells, and goddess-knows-what-else. But the pain is long gone. Now, it’s just numb at the base.”

“Why did he do this to you? Did you report him? Was he arrested and punished for this?”

He smiled warmly. “My feisty little princess, ready for blood and vengeance. Why would I report him? I paid him to do it.”

“You did?” I gaped at him in shock. “But why?”

“For the pleasure of my clients.”

“You paid an unskilled warlock to hurt and mutilate you for the pleasure of strangers?”

“Strangers who financed the survival of both me and the establishment I worked for.”

I stopped short of arguing, afraid I’d sound judgmental. Instead, I reached out and wrapped my hand around his hard length again.