Bowen gave a choked laugh, closing his eyes and reaching down to still her hand. “I just mean . . . I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. I’ve thought about this a thousand times. A million even. And I don’t know . . . I could be too rough with you. You make me feel . . . Christ, girl, you make me feel wild.”
Her eyebrows went up. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“You deserve better,” Bowen said, and he knew he wasn’t just talking about sex now. “Soft sheets and . . . chivalry or summat, I don’t know.”
The smile on Tamsyn’s face was as soft as her skin, as warm as the water surrounding them, and she laid both palms on either side of his face. “Bowen,” she said, one cheek dimpling, “please trust me when I say soft sheets and chivalry are the last things on my mind right now. I don’t want that. I’ve had that. What I want is you. Wild you. Rough you. All of you.”
His hands slid down under the water to cup her arse, and she leaned in close, her teeth nipping his bottom lip.
“And I want it,” she practically purred, punctuating the words with another nip that had his fingers flexing on her bottom.
“Right. Now.”
Chapter 17
If you’d asked Tamsyn just a few hours before what she thought about sex in a bathtub, she would’ve said it was overrated, the kind of thing that looked sexy in movies, but was never as good in real life.
That was before she slid into a bathtub with Bowen Penhallow, though.
She’d thought he might object again, pull that chivalrous card, insist they couldn’t do this.
Instead, he took two deep breaths, his eyes never leaving hers, and then he growled—an honest-to-god growl—and all Tamsyn could do was hang on for dear life as he pulled her back into his arms and kissed the absolute hell out of her.
He was right—it was rough.
It was wild.
It was perfect.
His tongue tangled with hers, and she slid her hands over his wet biceps, loving the way the muscles bunched there as he held her so tightly, loving it even more when he suddenly sat up, sliding his hands down to her waist and easily lifting her up, turning her until her stomach was pressed against the edge of the tub, her hands braced on the rim as she went up on her knees, thighs spread wide.
Bowen was behind her, moving her hair to kiss the back of her neck, then lower, his lips moving over the knobs at the top of her spine, and when Tamsyn finally felt capable of opening her eyes, she realized why he’d positioned them like this.
The mirror.
She could see herself, wet hair and pink skin, eyes wild and chest heaving while she clutched the edge of the tub, and him behind her, his dark curls slicked back from his face, his beard dripping.
He was up on his knees as well, water spilling onto the floor, and Tamsyn found herself fascinated by the dark hair curling on his chest, the way the small silver medallion he wore caught the light from the lamp, the focused expression on his face as he smoothed a hand around the swell of her hip, his hand sliding forward to touch her exactly where she wanted him to touch her.
His fingers were firm, the pressure perfect, and he might have said it had been a while, but clearly he’d picked up skills somewhere.
Tamsyn wasn’t sure whether she wanted to tear that other woman’s hair out or send her an Edible Arrangement, but it didn’t matter, not when he was touching her right now, looking at her body like it was some wonderful new magical artifact he’d just discovered.
Using his knee, Bowen spread her legs wider, and his fingers slid deeper, making her shudder and close her eyes.
But then she felt his other hand twist her hair around his fist, gently pulling so that she lifted her head, her eyes opening again.
“Look at yourself,” he commanded in a voice straight from her dreams. “Watch how gorgeous you are.”
And she was gorgeous. She was wet and her skin was pink and her mouth was open because she was breathing so hard, and her breasts were pressed at an awkward angle against the porcelain, but she’d never felt more beautiful than she did right now with Bowen’s eyes meeting hers in the mirror, the serious expression on his face one she’d seen before, but never like this.
Never for her.
And it turned out this whole year of fantasies had been a waste, because nothing—absolutely nothing—could compare to the real thing.
Bowen’s hand slid back between her legs, and she didn’t close her eyes this time. She watched him and her in the mirror, the way his hand was obscured by the side of the tub, but the flexing of the muscles in his forearm left no doubt to what he was doing to her under the water.
She was close now, so close, but then Bowen groaned, and she could feel him, hard against her backside, and she let her knees spread even wider. “Now,” she panted. “Please, Bowen, now.”
God love a man who knew how to follow instructions, because he slid inside of her easily, the fullness of him combining with his touch to send her over the edge almost immediately, her cries bouncing off the tile.
Bowen cried out, too, his hands tight on her hips as he thrust, the water rocking around them, and Tamsyn kept her eyes glued on the mirror. He was so beautiful, his face contorted in a pleasure so intense it could’ve been mistaken for pain, and oh god, she was so in love with him.
So stupidly, crazily, completely in love with him.
And when he met her eyes in the mirror, she realized he might just be in love with her, too, and that was enough to have her shuddering again, her head falling forward so that her hair brushed the puddle of water on the tile as behind her, Bowen gave one last shout before pulling out of her, his hand dropping to his cock, but Tamsyn was already reaching around, taking hold of him and pumping once, twice, then hearing him cry out again as he came, warm wetness spreading over her palm as they both lay there, panting.
Ruined.
Wrecked.
Then, still trying to catch his breath, Bowen asked, “Wild enough for you?”
Tamsyn wanted to make a quip. She probably had a dozen, at least six of them werewolf jokes. But all she could do was croak, “Yup.”
His laugh in reply was the best thing she’d ever heard.
“That was actually very annoying,” Tamsyn said several minutes later when they were dry and tucked into their massive bed. The fire was higher tonight, but they were both still so warm from the bath—and what had happened in the bath—that they hadn’t even bothered with pajamas tonight, lying naked under the sheets.
