Page 27 of Shielded By My Mate

Ansel sets me on my feet by the bathtub, and I watch as he bends over and adjusts the water temperature.

“I don’t have any bubble bath or anything,” he apologizes.

“That’s okay,” I say, tugging my shirt over my head.

“Fuck,” he snarls, his eyes blazing with heat.

“Want to join me?” I purr.

He gives me a look I feel all the way down to my toes. “Later.”

Then he bolts out of the bathroom.

I sigh as I watch him go, then finish undressing and sink into the steaming water, allowing it to ease my sore muscles. I’m not sure how long I sit in the tub before the water starts to cool.

I pull the plug and grip the edge to hoist myself out of the deep basin, yelping as I put weight through my ankle.

“Shit, that hurt,” I mumble, rubbing the dull ache.

“Mira!” Ansel shouts a second before he bursts through the door into the bathroom. “Are you okay? I heard you cry out.”

“I hurt my ankle trying to get out, but I’m fine,” I assure him.

Our eyes lock through the still foggy bathroom. I whimper, my nipples pebbling in the rapidly draining water.

“Ansel,” I pant.

His eyes flick to the clock on the bedside table through the open door before returning to me. “Close enough,” he rasps.

Before I can ask, he lifts me out of the bath. I wrap my legs around his waist, almost cheering as he carries me into the bedroom.

“Dinner is ready if you want to go eat,” he says.

I shake my head. “Later.”

“Thank fuck,” he growls.

His lips slam down on mine, and I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to him as we fall onto the bed. My wet body rubs against his clothes, making both of us damp. He breaks the kiss and pulls back to rip his shirt over his head.

His fingers trail down from my neck, between my breasts, over my stomach. He grabs my hip, pinning me in place.

“So beautiful,” he says adoringly as his eyes drink in my naked body. “And all mine.”

“Yes, yours,” I agree, writhing beneath him. “Ansel, please. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

His brown eyes darken, and his cheeks are flushed. He curses under his breath, and then his weight presses me into the mattress. His lips capture mine in a bruising kiss. I can feel his need in the way he’s holding me, in the rigid lines of his body. He kisses me like he’s trying to brand me, and the urge to turn my neck, to submit to him, to beg him to bite and claim and fill me is almost overwhelming.

“Ansel,” I whine, my hips restless against his.

“I know. I can feel it too, but I need to taste you before I mark you.”

“Then do it!” I cry.

He grunts, kissing his way down my neck. I clutch at his shoulders as he moves lower, kissing across my clavicle and over the soft swell of my breasts. My body burns as his big, calloused hands cup my boobs, plumping them up for his mouth.

I gasp in rapture as his lips wrap around one stiff nipple. He sucks it into the warm heat of his mouth, and I arch into his touch. His clever fingers find my other nipple, teasing the sensitive bud until I’m a panting, horny mess.

“More,” I beg.