Page 141 of Fire and Silk

“You and I against them?” I whisper.

“Forever,” he says.

The water laps softly against the sides of the tub, steam curling around us in lazy spirals. His arms are wrapped around me from behind, my back resting against his chest, our bodies half-submerged in the deep, oversized basin. His legs bracket mine, his skin hot beneath the water, and I feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing behind me.

My head rests against his shoulder, eyes half-lidded, too content to move. The scent of sandalwood soap lingers faintly , but under it, it’s still him. Skin, salt, warmth.

One of his hands drifts lazily over my stomach, tracing invisible patterns across my skin. The other cups my thigh, spreading my leg gently over his as he hums low in my ear.

“Relax,” he murmurs, voice deep, soaked in something quiet and possessive.

I hum back, eyes closing.

His hand slips lower.

The warm water parts around his fingers as they drift between my legs, trailing across my slit under the surface. The touch is slow, searching,confident. I exhale sharply through my nose, but I don’t stop him—I tilt my hips just enough to give him better access, my thighs parting wider beneath the water.

His middle finger dips into me.

I suck in a breath, and the sound of it echoes quietly against the tile walls. The water ripples, disturbed by the movement between us, but I barely notice. I’m focused on the way his finger slides in deeper, the gentle pressure, the slick warmth of him moving inside me with exquisite care.

“There you are,” he whispers against my neck, his breath warm in the wet curls of my hair.

He adds a second finger, and my lips part around a soft gasp. The stretch is perfect—heis perfect—and the way he curls his fingers inside me sends a slow wave of pleasure up my spine.

The water shifts again as he begins to move—deep, rhythmic strokes, each one sending another shiver spiraling through my core. My head falls back against his shoulder, my mouth open, body melting into him as he fucks me with his fingers beneath the surface.

His other hand slides up to my breast, palm flat against the weight of it, thumb flicking my nipple until it stiffens under the attention. I arch into his hand as the pressure between my legs builds, soft, and hot, and insistent.

“You feel that?” he whispers against the shell of my ear, lips brushing my skin. “How wet you are for me? Even in the water…”

I moan—quiet, needy.

He speeds up just slightly, curling his fingers inside me in that perfect rhythm, his thumb now brushing over my clit in tight circles that make my hips jerk.

The heat coils low and tight, growing unbearable in the most delicious way. My thighs start to shake against him.

This is my life now, and I love it.