Page 79 of An Oath at Midnight

He shook harder, but with rage this time, as he took in the rest of me. I stood in front of him in only my underwear. He’d seen me like this before—he’d seen me completely naked, more than once—but for the first time, I knew he was looking at me as his female, his mate, and one day soon, his lover.

What did he see when he looked at me? All I saw when I looked in the mirror were imperfections. All the ugliness of my past, immortalized on my skin. I shoved that down, locking it away, refusing to let it ruin this moment.

Bram helped me into the shower, and lathering soap in his hands, he slowly, methodically, ran them over my body, washing the blood and dirt from my skin. As his hand drifted over my chest, he paused, looking down at me, checking I was okay with it. I nodded and bit my lips when his palm grazed my nipples.

His nostrils flared as I ate up the sight of him, tall and lean and muscled. His stomach muscles were tight as hell, and my gaze trailed over the warrior tattoos decorating his body, then down to the V at his hips that led my gaze even lower…

My belly heated, clenching tight. He was hard, straining behind the soaked fabric of his underwear, but Bram seemed content to ignore it, laser focused on getting the smell of demon off me.

His hand slid over my stomach, and he leaned in and kissed me again. My body fired to life in a way that it hadn’t for so very long. My nipples tightened, heat flooding me. I squeezed my thighs together, moaning against his lips. “Touch me.”

I was weak, hungry, my mind spinning, fuzzy for once, not letting anything else in except for my desperation for Bram’s touch.

His hand didn’t stop moving over my skin. “You sure?”

“Yes, please. I need you to touch me.”

“Tell me where.”

I took his wrist, leading him where I needed him, pushing the tips of his fingers under the elastic of my underwear. “Please,” I said.

His gaze was locked on mine, searching for any sign that I didn’t want this as he slid his fingers down the front of my underwear.

“Fuck,” he growled, the sound bouncing off the tiles.

He hooked one strong arm around me, holding me up, and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I need you to tell me if you don’t like it, if you want me to stop, okay?”

I nodded as he curled his fingers around my pussy, the middle one pressing deeper. I shoved my forehead against his chest, digging my fingernails into his biceps.

“You’re so hot. So fucking slick.” Bram groaned as he slid his fingers up and back. “Good?”

“Yes, don’t…don’t stop.”

He fisted my wet hair with his other hand and tilted my head back. “Eyes on me, Magnolia.”

The rough, possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver through me. I blinked up at him through the spray and steam, licking the water from my lips.

His gaze dropped to my mouth, then back, and his eyes darkened. “I want to make you come, Maggie, so fucking badly. I want to make you feel good.”

The use of that nickname—the one he used so sparingly, the one that I loved so much—and the vulnerability I saw in his eyes had me moving closer, holding him tighter. “It d-does. It feels so good.”

His fingers slid higher, circling my clit, and my legs tried to buckle under me again.

“Yeah, right there,” he muttered. “Faster?”

I nodded, digging my nails deeper. “P-please.”

His chest heaved with his panted breaths as he focused solely on getting me off. His fingers didn’t let up, demanding my surrender. I cried out and bit my lip harder when the pleasure started to grow.

He pressed on my lower lip with his thumb, pulling it free, and shook his head. “No hiding from me. We’ve hidden enough from each other. Not this, never this.” He dipped his head, sliding his tongue over my abused lip. “I want to hear it, how good I make you feel, I need to hear it. Give it to me, Mags.”

At his words, the feeling growing inside me intensified, its grip on me tightening even more. I panted, sharp sobs bursting from me the closer I got to my breaking point. I squeezed my eyes closed.

“Eyes on me,” he said again. “Now.”

I forced my eyes open, and when they met his, a sound vibrated through his chest, soft yet deep, rumbling through him. It was almost melodic, a mix of growls and rattles, along with something that could only be described as cooing. I’d never heard it from him before. He nuzzled the side of my face, my neck, sucking the skin there.

At the next swipe of his fingers, I gasped, a cry bursting from me, then I shattered, calling out his name as I came for him, gasping for breath.