Shadowlander by Theresa Meyers

her throat. “That feels decadent,” she murmured.
    “Time for the front,” he said as stoically as he could manage, considering his verge ached and his body had become one great heartbeat from head to toe, pounding with the insane rush of his blood. Even the steaming water felt only lukewarm against his skin. She was a fire consuming him from the inside out.
    Cate turned and gazed up at him from beneath her lashes, the sultry look in her eyes stealing away his ability to breathe.
    “You are beyond beauty,” he said, with his last sip of air. Her skin, already rosy from the temperature of the water, didn’t reveal the blush he found so endearing, but the sparkle in her eyes and slightly parted mouth revealed her appreciation of his touch. Her lips tilted in a way that made his heart pound harder. He wanted a thousand moments—no, a million—like this with her. I love you , he said silently, unable yet to speak the words to her.
    “I think the front is jealous,” she said, her tone husky and seductive.
    He swallowed, his tongue too thick to speak, and merely smiled at her in reply. His hands shook as he took the lather bar between them.
    His fingers, slick with the suds, traced over her, paying special attention to her breasts. Trails of the white foam slid over the rounded globes, down the curve of her ribs, and across the span of her soft belly. His hands eagerly pursued, learning each dip and hollow of her wondrous form.
    “We aren’t doing much to get you clean,” she murmured. She arched a brow. “Stand up.”
    At this point he would have torn the castle down stone by stone and rebuilt it if she had asked him to. The water sluiced off him in warm rivulets. Her gaze lingered on him and his verge flexed.
    A glint of mischief sparkled in her gaze. “This is going to take a lot more soap.” Without warning she pressed her wet body against him, the lather forming a sensual layer between them. Every curve of her slid against him, his verge moving against her belly, amplifying the red haze quickly taking over his vision.
    Rook locked his arms around her and plunged them both up to their necks in the hot water. She gasped, the beads of her nipples rasping against his chest. He felt her heart beating hard and fast, like a bird trapped by the cage of her ribs.
    “Lean back.” The raw edge of his voice betrayed his barely leashed need. She did, closing her eyes as he rinsed the lather from her hair, her curls swirling in the water and tangling in his fingers as he kissed the column of her neck, her breath coming in fast pants.
    Beneath the water, Rook cupped her bottom in his hands, letting his fingers follow the indentation there until he found what he sought. She gasped and bucked against him, closing her eyes as he moved his fingers within the soft center of her.
    He needed her permission. Needed her to say the words before he could do any more to please her. “Tell me what you want.” He increased the rhythm, making her writhe against his hand.
    She groaned.
    “Not good enough. I need your words.”
    Her eyes snapped open. Blatant desire and impatience glazed them a brilliant green. “Take. Me. Now.”
    He crushed his mouth to hers in a kiss both hungry and demanding. Cate responded with a ferocity that matched his own, her tongue mating with his as she wrapped around him like a vine, encircling him with her arms and legs. For an instant, Rook didn’t know if it was the moment or the water that made them buoyant. He only knew in that endless second, he was floating.
    Rook pulled his fingers from her and lifted her body weight, shifting all at once so that his shaft plunged to the hilt in her tight wet heat. Sparks burst before his eyes, a surge of pressure rushing through him as the shimmer between them grew, forging a magickal bond. He groaned with the force of it.
    Cate rocked back and forth on him. She looked glorious, her dark wet curls a riot about her face, her skin flushed pink and glistening. He