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"Hey." She reached up to touch my cheek. "Where'd you go just now?"

I tried to smile, but it felt brittle. "Just thinking."

She studied me for a moment, her eyes searching mine. Then, without warning, she pressed her sauce-covered finger to the tip of my nose. "Too much thinking," she declared. "Not enough fun."

The unexpected gesture startled a laugh out of me. She grinned triumphantly and moved to do it again, but this time I was ready. I caught her wrist before she could strike, holding it firmly in my grasp.

"Careful, little mate," I murmured, letting my voice drop to a register that made her pupils dilate. "I bite."

To prove my point, I brought her captured finger to my mouth and nipped at the pad of it, just hard enough to make herbreath catch. The taste of tomato, spices, and her skin mingled on my tongue. Oddly intimate. Strangely arousing.

Her pulse jumped beneath my fingertips, and the scent of her desire unfurled in the air between us, sweet and heady.

"Gods, you're filthy," Rowen commented, his dark eyes raking over Sierra's flour and tomato-covered form with predatory interest. "Did any of the ingredients actually make it into the dish, or are you wearing most of them?"

Sierra stuck out her tongue at him, which only made him look more tempted to devour her on the spot.

"The timer says we have about forty-five minutes before the lasagna is done," Archer observed casually, wiping his hands on a nearby towel. His eyes, however, were anything but casual as they roamed over Sierra's body. "Seems we could make effective use of that time."

"What did you have in mind?" Sierra asked innocently, though the heated flush spreading down her neck belied her tone.

"A shower," I suggested, my voice rough with sudden hunger. "You're covered in flour and sauce, flower."

Before she could respond, I bent and hoisted her over my shoulder in one smooth motion, earning a surprised yelp from her lips. Her body was warm and soft against mine, her ass perfectly positioned for my hand to rest possessively on it.

"Why am I always being carried places?" she protested, swatting ineffectually at my back. "I do have legs, you know. Fully functional ones that work perfectly well!"

I landed a sharp smack on her ass that made her gasp. "It's all about the journey, not the destination," I informed her with mock solemnity. "Specifically, it's about being able to squeeze this perfect ass the entire way there."

To emphasize my point, I gave her another squeeze that made her squirm against me. The friction of her body against mine sent sparks of pleasure racing up my spine.

"We'll be back before the timer goes off," Rowen called to Archer, who was already following us from the kitchen, his eyes dark with anticipation.

I carried Sierra through the corridors, savoring the way she laughed and protested half-heartedly, her hands occasionally daring to slip under my shirt to rake her nails lightly down my back. Each touch sent shivers through me, building my need for her with every step.

By the time we reached the bathing chamber, the air between us was thick with tension. Rowen pushed open the ornate doors, and the sight that greeted us was magnificent as always—a massive sunken tub in the center of the room, more like a small pool than a bath, with steaming water perpetually ready. The walls gleamed with obsidian and gold, and the ceiling was open to the perpetual twilight of the Underworld sky.

I set Sierra on her feet, and immediately her hands went to the hem of her flour-covered shirt, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion. The sight of her bare skin, curves spilling over the top of her lacy black bra, sent a surge of heat straight to my groin. Rowen moved behind her, his large hands spanning her waist as he pressed his lips to her neck.

"You're beautiful," he murmured against her skin, "even covered in flour."

I stepped closer, my fingers finding the button of her jeans and flicking it open. "But I think you'll look even better covered in something else."

Her breath hitched as understanding flickered in her eyes—desire, anticipation, need. I slid the zipper down slowly, savoring the way her stomach muscles jumped beneath my touch.

Beside us, Archer had shed his shirt, revealing the lean, muscled torso that bore scars from countless battles. His ice-blue eyes never left Sierra as he unbuckled his belt with practiced ease.

I helped Sierra step out of her jeans, leaving her in just her matching black underwear, a stark contrast against her flour-dusted skin. Reaching behind her, I tangled my fingers in her silver hair, tilting her head back to meet my gaze.

"I want you on your knees for us, mate," I told her, my voice dropping to a growl that made her shiver visibly. "And when you're thoroughly coated in our cum, then we'll clean you up."

Her pupils dilated until only a thin ring of color remained, her lips parting as her breathing quickened. "Gods, yes," she whispered, and the raw need in her voice nearly undid me.

I loosened my grip on her hair, allowing her to slowly sink to her knees before us on the plush bath mat. She looked up at the three of us—Rowen to her right, Archer to her left, and me directly before her—her silver hair falling around her shoulders like moonlit water against her flour-dusted skin. The vulnerability in her upturned face struck something primal within me.

"You're a vision," I murmured, watching goosebumps rise on her skin at my words. The chamber's warm, steam-filled air seemed to crystallize around us, time slowing as we regarded one another.

The sight of her kneeling there, her expression both tender and fierce, made tension coil tight within me. I reached for my belt buckle, my movements deliberately unhurried as her gaze tracked my hands. Her lips parted slightly, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet them in unconscious anticipation. I savored the power of that moment—not dominance, but the sacred trust between us that made such surrender possible.