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And now he had no choice but to go to her, and he prayed she didn’t reject him. He prayed because, suddenly, life looked very bleak without her.
Dawn adjusted the shower to a temperature as hot as she could stand and, naked, stepped beneath the stinging spray of three separate shower heads.
For pity’s sake, who needed three shower heads in one shower? It defied explanation. Just as the emotions rising inside her defied explanation. She felt like crying. She wanted to lay her head against the shower wall and sob, but Dawn hardly ever cried. Not when she was hurt, not when she was angry, not when friends died or when they walked away.
She hadn’t fallen to the floor with the screams welling inside her when she learned her mate wasn’t her mate, and she didn’t let the need hovering inside her now escape.
Because she wanted to pray. And if Dawn didn’t cry, she certainly didn’t pray. Why pray to a God that had deserted her? That hadn’t heard her screams as a child, and hadn’t heeded her tears? She believed in His existence, but unlike other Breeds, she didn’t believe He agreed with theirs.
She shook her head and washed her hair quickly before tipping her head back to rinse the soap from her hair. As her head lifted, her eyes jerked open, and her lips parted on a gasp.
The shower door was open and Seth was stepping into the spray of water. Powerful muscles rippled beneath his flesh, and standing out from his body, thickly veined, the crest dark and furiously engorged, his cock demanded her attention.
A light mat of hair covered his chest and arrowed down his abs. It sprinkled over his arms, thighs and legs, and as she watched he slowly soaked the cloth he held in his hand and soaped it with a bar of sweet-smelling soap that he held in his hand.
“Ten years ago,” he said, “I started collecting soaps for you. There were about half a dozen before I was led to believe that you didn’t want me, that you wouldn’t want me. But somehow, the habit held. There are over two dozen now. Several are quite unique, one-of-a-kind scents just awaiting your approval before the soap makers I found create more of what you enjoy.”
Her lips parted in surprise as he carefully set the creamy bar on an inset shelf.
“This one I found in Morocco.” He stepped forward and laid the cloth at her neck before beginning to wash her. “There’s just the lightest touch of sandalwood, though it’s often used just for men. Once I described you, the soap maker thought perhaps a scent that denotes male and female would be appropriate. A combination of us both.”
Dawn almost swayed as she stared up at his face, fascinated by this information, by the gentleness and the heat in his expression.
“The scent is simply Dawn,” he said softly. “The soap maker said it would hold the scent of a new day. Fresh and renewed, and touched by fire.”
And that was how it smelled. Not flowery or strong or even musky. Just clean and warm as it frothed with thick, rich bubbles.
“I think I like this one,” he told her, his voice harsh despite its gentleness. “It does smell like you, Dawn. Like both of us, combined.”
She stood, shell-shocked, as he soaped her from neck to ankle. The thick, scented lather clung to her skin and filled the steamy interior of the shower with the scent of a new day and a heated male. Like the smell of Seth last night, his need flowing from him, wrapping around her and heating her all the way through her pores.
He washed her stomach with slow, sensual strokes. He parted her thighs and her breath caught in her throat as he washed her there. Washed her thoroughly, then cupped water and rinsed her with all the anticipation and reverence of a boy opening a Christmas present.
“What are you doing?” she finally managed to whisper, uncertain how to respond, or what she should do.
“I’m seducing you, Dawn.” He leaned forward and kissed her thighs, pausing to inhale the scent of her as she felt the juices slowly building on the sensitive folds of her sex. “Every woman should be seduced her first time with a lover. Gentled. Eased. Pleasured.”
She shook her head at the sight of the water running through his hair, where her hands should be.
“But it’s not the first time,” she forced herself to remind him. “I’m not a virgin, Seth. You know I’m not.”
He had seen the discs, he had seen what they did to her. Not just once. More than once before her escape with Callan.
He touched his lips to the top of her mound then, and she shivered with the pleasure before his head lifted and he stared up at her, his gaze dominant, possessive.
“You’re wrong, Dawn,” he said then. “You are a virgin. Sweetly innocent, untouched by a lover’s hands. All your pleasure is mine, isn’t it? Your passion for me, your need for me. You are a virgin, sweetheart, more than you’ll ever know.”
She blinked back at him in confusion as he rose, towering over her, to turn her. The spray from the front shower washed the soap from her body as he began to lather her back. And that was even more sensual. She couldn’t see him; she could only feel him. Feel the suds gathering on her, caressing her even as his hands caressed her, stroking her flesh, delicately massaging her muscles.
“Once, I was in Russia,” he murmured at her ear. “It was colder than I could ever imagine cold, and there I was, standing on the balcony of my hotel looking out at this pristine, gorgeous snow-covered forest. And I imagined you there, sharing that with me. The next morning I went out and found a soap maker. And I requested that scent for you. The scent of the forest at evening, of those first rays of the moon striking the snow. When I use that soap on you, I’m going to be buried inside you. So you can feel the heat that snow holds trapped. Deep within the earth, burning and waiting for spring. That’s what I’m going to be, Dawn, that fire burning inside you as I bathe you with the scent of snow.”
Dawn felt the little cry leave her throat and her knees went weak. The next instant his arm was around her waist, holding her steady as that diabolical washrag began to wash her rear.
“And this is the most gorgeous ass in the world,” he growled. “I almost started collecting panties for you, but somehow that just struck me as obsessive, don’t you think?”
She shook her head.
“Good, then you won’t be surprised when I pull out the few pairs I collected for you, no more than a few dozen, and ask you to wear them for me. Silk and satin and lace so delicate it’s no more than a whisper against your flesh. I’ll come just thinking of you wearing those panties beneath those mission pants you wear. They have ribbons too. And little bows. And some don’t have a crotch. I could slip right inside you, and not have to worry about tearing them from you first.”
