Chapter 15
brODY
She stepped into the pool first, a soft sigh escaping her as the warm water enveloped her body. The sound sent heat racing through me that had nothing to do with the steaming pool. I gave her a moment to settle before joining her, entering from the opposite side to maintain a respectful distance.
The pool was large enough that we could sit without touching but small enough that I could see every nuance of her expression, every droplet of water that clung to her skin. The tension between us was a living thing, crackling with potential energy.
She was perfect. Mahogany skin that gleamed in the gemstones’ light.
The graceful curve of her neck, the strength in her shoulders, the soft swell of her breasts with dark nipples that pebbled in the steamy air—every inch of her was exquisite.
My cock jerked to painful attention beneath the water, my body responding to hers.
Energy arced across the water between us.
Each ripple that touched my skin carried her essence, making my nerve endings sing with recognition.
Torture, exquisite and unavoidable. Her scent intensified in the steamy air, jasmine and vanilla and woman, mingling with the mineral tang of the water to create something intoxicating that made my head swim.
“This water is remarkable,” she said, breaking the charged silence. Her voice sounded huskier than usual, betraying that she wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended. “My muscles are already relaxing.”
“The COL water interacts with shifter biology in unique ways,” I explained, grateful for the neutral topic despite the intimate setting.
She nodded, her mind clearly processing the information even as her body surrendered to the water’s warmth. “I wonder if the chemical composition changes as it travels from the source. That could explain why the Fae chose these specific locations for their dwellings.”
“That’s exactly what I think, but who knows?” I said.
As we spoke, I watched her relax incrementally, the strain of our day’s journey melting from her shoulders. She reached for one of the small bottles on the ledge, turning it curiously in her hand. “I wonder what this does in the water,” she mused, unstopping the bottle.
Her jasmine-and-vanilla scent that drifted across the pool nearly undid me. The oil poured into her palm like liquid moonlight, glowing faintly blue against her skin.
“Oh,” she breathed, watching as the oil shifted colors, responding to her body heat. “It’s… changing.”
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. “According to the Bane records, it adapts to what you need most.” What I needed most was her, but some truths were better left unspoken.
She began to smooth the oil across her shoulders, the substance transforming into a silken foam that clung to her wet skin. A soft moan escaped her as it made contact. “It tingles,” she said, eyes widening slightly. “Like tiny electric sparks.”
My cock throbbed painfully at the sound. I gripped the edge of the pool, anchoring myself against the primal urge to cross the distance between us.
She tried to reach a spot between her shoulder blades, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at muscles strained from our hike. “I can’t quite reach…” she began, frustration evident in her tone.
“Let me,” I offered, the words escaping before I could consider their implication. I expected her to refuse, to maintain the careful distance she’d established between us.
Instead, she hesitated only briefly before nodding. “All right.”
I moved through the water toward her, each step bringing me closer to the woman who had haunted my dreams for years. The water parted around me, swirling in patterns that seemed to mirror the chaos in my blood. When I reached her, I stopped, leaving a few inches of space between us.
“Turn around,” I said, my voice rougher than intended.
She complied, presenting the smooth expanse of her back to me. My hands trembled slightly as I reached for the bottle she’d used, pouring a small amount of the oil into my palm. It shimmered against my skin, shifting from blue to gold as it warmed.
“It changes color for you too,” she observed, glancing over her shoulder.
“Different needs,” I murmured, rubbing my palms together to distribute the oil. “Different responses.”
I placed my hands on her shoulders, and the contact sent a jolt through both of us. The oil between us transformed into silk, reducing friction without diminishing the electric connection of our bodies.
Her sharp intake of breath echoed my own response. For a moment, neither of us moved, frozen in the recognition of what even this simple touch awakened. Then, slowly, I began to move my hands across her shoulders, following the elegant lines of muscle and bone beneath her skin.
“Your shoulders are knotted,” I said, focusing on the task to maintain control. My thumbs found a particularly tight spot, and I pressed carefully, working the tension with gentle circles.
She made a sound, half pain, half pleasure, that sent heat to my belly. “That’s what happens when you spend decades hunched over microscopes,” she managed, her voice strained.
I worked my way down her spine, each vertebra a point of focused attention. The oil made my hands glide effortlessly, highlighting areas of tension that needed attention. Her dark skin was impossibly soft, water-slick and perfect.
“You’re good at this,” she murmured, head dropping forward as I worked a particularly tight knot between her neck and shoulder.
“Learned from necessity,” I replied, memories of injuries and recovery softening my voice. “Pack life isn’t always gentle.”
The trust implicit in her allowing me this close, this intimate, felt like a precious gift I hadn’t earned but would cherish nonetheless.
When I finished with her back, I hesitated, then moved my hands down to her feet beneath the water. “May I?” I asked, needing her explicit permission for this more intimate contact.
She nodded, shifting to give me better access.
I lifted one foot from the water, cradling it in my hands.
The oil clung to my fingers, transforming the simple touch into something special.
I worked from heel to arch to each toe individually, watching as tension melted from her face with each press of my fingers.
“I never would have pegged you for a foot-massage expert,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of teasing that felt like another wall crumbling between us.
“I have multiple talents,” I replied, matching her lighter tone despite the intensity of emotion coursing through me.
When I finished with both feet, she surprised me by reaching for the oil. “Your turn,” she said, her voice soft but determined.
I turned, presenting my back to her. The first touch of her hands against my shoulders nearly undid me, smaller than mine but strong, confident in their movements. The oil between us turned to satin, her fingers finding knots of tension I hadn’t even known I carried.
“You’re carrying the weight of the Ridge on these shoulders,” she observed, working a particularly stubborn knot beneath my left shoulder blade. “All those unmated males depending on you to find a cure.”
I closed my eyes, surrendering to her touch. “Someone has to.”
“No,” she countered, her thumbs pressing into a spot that made me groan with pleasure. “Not someone. You. That’s what makes you who you are, Brody. You don’t just accept responsibility, you seek it out.”
The insight was unexpected. “Is that a compliment or a diagnosis, Doctor?” I attempted humor to mask how deeply her words had reached.
Her hands never stopped their steady work, kneading muscles that had been tense for longer than I could remember. “An observation,” she replied. “Neither good nor bad. Just true.”
We fell silent then, communication shifting to the language of touch. Her hands moved with precision, finding each trouble spot with unerring accuracy. The oil between us seemed to amplify every sensation, making each point of contact feel like a spark of concentrated lightning.
When she finished, we found ourselves facing each other in the water. The intimacy of what we’d just shared, the giving and receiving of care, the admission of vulnerability, the permission to touch, was a tangible thing.
She raised an eyebrow, a knowing look in her eyes as she settled back into the water. “Something on your mind, Thornbern?”
“Many things,” I admitted, deciding honesty was the only approach that had ever worked with Rozi. “All of them are dirty and not professional.”
The corner of her mouth curled upward. “We’re naked in a magical hot spring inside a Fae vacation home. I think we’ve moved beyond being strictly professional.”
Her candor startled a laugh from me. “Fair point.”
Water lapped at her shoulders. “So? What inappropriate thoughts are occupying that mind of yours?”
The directness of her question shouldn’t have surprised me. This was Rozi after all.
“I was thinking,” I said carefully, “about how beautiful you are.” I swallowed hard, the confession feeling like jumping from a cliff. “I was thinking about how perfectly we would fit together. How every curve of your body seems designed specifically to drive me out of my mind.”
The scent of her arousal intensified in the steamy air.
“Smooth talker,” she said, but her words held no bite. Her voice had dropped to that husky register that made my wolf pace restlessly beneath my skin.
“Not smooth,” I corrected. “Just honest. Now you tell me something honest.” I held her gaze across the pool.
She gave me a wicked grin. “I’ve never met a male, human or shifter, who accepted that sometimes I’m dominant in the bedroom.
” She tilted her head, examining me. “Don’t get me wrong.
I’d love to be dominated in the bedroom…
” She bit her bottom lip and locked eyes with me, then continued, “But me trusting a lover with that much control has been elusive.” She bit her plump bottom lip.