Page 45 of My Salvation
“Knock, knock,” Priest said, then swung the door open. He had already undressed and wore a towel wrapped around his waist. In his hands, he had a tray of snacks and desserts and the now opened bottle of wine. “Which flower will I smell like later?” he asked.
“Sandalwood, you ungrateful wretch.”
Laughing, he set the tray down on the counter. “Water done yet?”
She looked down. The tub was close to half full. When you factored in two bodies, it should be about done. “Yes, I’m adding the bubble bath now.”
She poured the woodsy liquid into the bath and was surprised at the thick froth it produced. After a minute or two, she stopped the water and turned to her mate, who was leaning against the door, watching her with a soft smile on his face.
“What?”
“This feels right.”
She thought about what he said and realized she was about to get into the tub naked with him, and it never registered for her to be nervous. “I thought matings were supposed to be about a grand passion?” she asked, nervously playing with the sash on her robe.
He shrugged, then walked over to her. “I like what we have. I’d rather be comfortable and be able to laugh and talk with you than be twisted after a few moments of passion.”
“Only a few moments, huh?” she teased.
He pointed to her. “That right there, that’s what makes us perfect. Do I desire you…”
She, in turn, pointed to his towel. “I would say so.” Gods above help her. What his body was inadvertently advertising had her mouth watering. She kept her tone light to avoid sounding desperate. Like most shifters, he carried a bit of muscle. But maybe because he was a bird shifter, he was on the leaner side, somewhere between the typical shifter build and the vampire physique. To her, he was perfection. Unlike the fae, he had dark brown hair, but like his bird and most fae, he had golden eyes that always seemed to dance with laughter. Coll had been right. He was the best of both worlds.
His hands on her arms brought her back to the present.
“Where did you go?”
“Your body,” she blurted out.
“This ole thing?” he asked, wiggling his hips.
Moments later, his towel gave up the fight and floated to the floor.
She stared. How could she not?
“Cas?”
He looked like cut marble.
“Cas?”
The head looked so angrily purple.
“Cassandra?”
She looked up and saw he was chuckling. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
“Your turn, my mate.”
“But I’m not marble,” she babbled.
His head tilted to one side. “Good?”
Shaking her head, she tried to pull herself together. She undid the sash and let her robe fall.
“Sweet gods in heaven,” he breathed.
She felt her nipples tighten under his gaze, and a familiar warmth began to spread from her clit outward. She made the mistake of looking down again. “Priest, it got angrier.”