Page 81 of King of Malice

His mouth twitches down into a frown. Does he not like the crassness of my words? I can have that effect.

“We only fuck when you want to fuck, Cadence. And between us, it will be something much deeper and better than fucking.”

My mouth opens to respond when he reaches for the hem of his tank top, pulling it slowly over my head.

Then he takes off mine, adding it to his on the floor. Finally, he unsnaps my bra. I’m totally naked in front of him in the harsh light of the bathroom and I have to force myself not to curl my shoulders in. I don’t do embarrassed.

His fingertips start at my neck, lightly running down my arms and then back up, tracing the plains of my body. His fingers are light, his touch so delicious that I lose myself in the feel of his hands, my head tipping back.

I turn when he instructs me to, his touch feels so good I forget myself and let him look all over my back. “Just a few bruises,” he murmurs.

“Mm,” is all I reply, wanting more of his hands on my skin. “Does that mean I can get in the shower?”

“It sure does.”

“Are you joining me?” I look over my shoulder where he’s bent down, inspecting a bruise on my leg.

“Do you want me to?”

We’re still doing that permission thing? Part of me rebels. We’re wasting time. But another parts of me likes it. It relaxes me. Here…with him…I’m safe. “Yes.”

He’s up in a second, kicking off his boots, shucking his pants down his powerful thighs. My mouth goes dry at the sight of those thighs and what’s hanging between them.

That’s all mine for the next three weeks.

If I don’t blow the whole arrangement up, that is. Which I’ll probably do, but that’s a problem for some other point in time in the near future.

Tonight, I’m going to enjoy the spoils of war. My very own warrior.

I step into the hot spray, sighing at the feel of the water as rivulets of dirt wash down my skin.

Zane steps in behind me, grabbing the soap and brushing it over my skin. His hands slide over my body, running up my back and over my shoulders.

I arch into his touch, my hands extending out to give him more access as he washes down my sides and over my ass to scrub my legs.

The feel of his hands, the fact that’s he crouched down, makes me throb with a need that steals my breath.

I can’t remember ever feeling a desire this strong. The organizers of The Hunt were right about that. The competition has created this heightened sense of connection between us.

But I’m not even thinking about that now. I’d just take some really good sex.

And I already know it’s going to be amazing with Zane.

My body follows the thought, my ass pushing back in clear invitation even as he reaches around, beginning to wash the front of my legs, then up my thighs to my hips and belly.

His hands slide over my ribs and then to my chest.

Like I said, I’m slender. Which means I don’t have the biggest rack. In fact, they’d probably be classified as small. Sometimes I can fill a B cup but most of the time, I’m an A.

His hands, which are massive, swallow my bee stings, completely covering my boobs and a fair bit of my chest too.

My nipples peak against his palms even as he nuzzles my neck.

It’s the first time he’s touched me under the hot spray with anything other than tender efficiency.

I fall into the touch, pressing my back to his front, tilting my head to give him more access as I push my chest into his hands.

“You’re going to get dirty again,” he rumbles into my skin. “I haven’t washed myself yet.”