Page 281 of Elemental Becoming

“You think I’m done with you?”

The words are low, almost disbelieving. As though the very idea is absurd.

His thumb brushes against the most sensitive part of me and I let out a sharp, broken cry.

“You think I could ever be done with you?”

Before I can beg or plead or demand, his hand reaches for the drain. The water begins to lower, spiraling away until only a shallow layer remains at the bottom of the bath. Steam still hangs in the air, curling around us, but now there is nothing between us except heat, breath, and the look in his eyes.

I shiver, my skin cooling in the sudden absence of water. My body aches. For more. For him.

And then he moves.

I expect him to strip. Expect him to take his time, to tease, to drag this out. But he doesn’t. Instead, he walks down the steps and into the tub—boots, leathers, everything.

His broad frame fills the space between my legs, water still dripping from his half-soaked tunic and dark leathers. The wet fabric clings to him, emphasizing every hard line of his body, while his jaw remains tight as he kneels before me.

I swallow hard, my heart slamming against my ribs.

“What are you—”

He grabs my knees, spreading me wider, gently guiding me down. Pulling me to him like I already belong there. His fingers stroke up my thighs, his grip possessive as he leans in.

“You’re not done yet,” he says, his voice a velvet promise.

His hands slide beneath my ass, and in one effortless motion, he lifts me. The cords of muscle in his forearms flex as he shiftsme to the edge of the tub, swift, sure, completely in control.

He lifts a hand. Fire flares to life around us in hovering orbs, their heat brushing against my wet skin like my lover’s touch. Water trails down my body in glistening rivulets, catching the light as it drips from my thighs, my breasts, my fingertips.

“You are . . . breathtaking,” he breathes, his gaze raking over every inch of me.

He drinks me in hungrily, as though he’s memorizing the way the firelight catches the water on my skin.

My breath stutters. My nipples harden, my chest rising and falling with every breath, caught between anticipation and ache as I wait for whatever he’s going to do next.

Thane is kneeling before me, and gods, I’ve never wanted anyone like this. I’m flushed, breathless, desperate to be touched. There is something devastating about the way he looks at me from below, like he’d worship every inch of me if I let him.

Thane places a hand on each of my knees and gently parts them. His gaze drops between them, to my center. A flicker of shyness tightens inside me. The instinct to close myself off. But another part of me aches for him to see me like this.

All of me.

So I shift. Spread my legs just a little wider. Offer him everything.

He swallows hard, his teeth catching his lower lip. Droplets of water cling to his chest, glinting in the firelight as they trail over the broad expanse revealed by his open collar.

His voice rolls over me like distant thunder.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze locked between my legs, his expression feral and reverent all at once.

After a moment, his eyes lift to mine.

“Tell me to touch you.”

My breath is shallow, almost as if I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“Tell me I can put my mouth on you.”

He swallows hard, gaze dark and unblinking.