He sucked in a breath as he felt her hands massaging him.
She took her hand away to cup water from the tub below and pour it over him to rinse the bubbles away.
Then she was moving her hands away and replacing them with her mouth.
“Gods, Willow,” he groaned, letting his head fall back as her plump lips closed around the tip of him, teasing with her velvet tongue.
She toyed with him for a long time, flicking her tongue along his length and then sucking him into her hot mouth until he could take no more.
“Stop,” he told her firmly.
She pulled away, and gazed up at him with her beautiful dark eyes.
“My turn,” he told her.
25
Willow
Willow felt his words to her core.
It was one thing to bathe him and tease him, but she wasn’t sure she could handle the same treatment at his hands.
She was already about to implode from sheer desire.
But the Prince of Autumn was not going to take no for an answer. It was clear from the look in his eyes.
She nodded and tried not to show her apprehension.
But he gave her a cocky half-smile that told her he already knew exactly what she was feeling.
Before she could speak, he took the cloth from her hand and ran it down her right arm and then her left.
The gentle pressure told her of his restraint, which only made her crave him more.
She tried to focus on breathing as he circled her breasts with the soapy cloth, rubbing his thumbs gently against her nipples as he passed downward across her belly.
Although they had already made love, something about this was so much more intimate.
She closed her eyes as he washed her back, her thighs, and then up to her sex where his fingers danced teasingly until she clenched her fists and forgot to breathe for a moment.
“Let’s rinse now,” he said, his voice low and teasing.
She followed him into the water, and he pulled her into his arms and held her there, both of them trembling with need.
“I was afraid I would never see you again,” she heard herself admit.
“You will never have to fear it again,” he promised. “I will not let you out of my sight. Not either of you.”
His possessive hand spread wide to span her abdomen.
Willow felt deep satisfaction in her heart, even as her body clawed and whined for him.
“We are clean enough,” Heath decided, standing with her in his arms.
She laughed in surprise as he carried her to their bed, throwing back the covers and placing her down so gently.
Willow lay back, soaking in the comfort of the soft bed and the incredible sight of her prince, musclebound and still dripping from the bath.
He crawled in, pinning her body to the bed with his.
She needed him, more than she had ever needed anything.
He pressed his forehead to hers.
“I love you, Willow,” he murmured. “You are everything to me.”
Flowers blossomed in her chest and she blinked up at him through tears. “I love you too.”
Then he was kissing her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone.
He cupped one breast in a reverent hand and lowered his face to nuzzle and tease her.
Willow arched her back, giving herself over to the yawning need, unashamed.
He licked her stiff nipple into his mouth, sucking gently as he massaged her other breast with his hand.
Her whole body felt like it was floating in the pleasure.
Heath moved lower, pressing his lips to her navel, rubbing his rough jaw against the tender skin, on his way down to nuzzle her thighs.
She let them fall apart for him, she was already so ready, so close.
He growled with satisfaction at the sight of her and fell on her sex, stroking her firmly with his clever tongue.
Willow’s hips lifted to meet his mouth. Need overpowered her and she could feel her desire pounding as if mimicking his heartbeat, rising up against the slow rhythm of his mouth.
“Please,” she whimpered.
Instantly, he gave her what she wanted, flicking his tongue to lash her throbbing pearl and sliding a finger inside to massage her most sensitive spot.
Willow cried out as the pleasure lifted her out of herself.
As it was dying down, he crawled up to her, his mouth glistening with the evidence of her desire.
She kissed him and wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him close.
He groaned and surrendered, taking himself in his hand and guiding his rigid cock against her opening.
“Willow,” he growled, thrusting into her.
The pleasure was exhilarating.
He moved slowly at first, his jaw clenched as if he were restraining himself.
“Please,” she murmured, jogging her hips up to meet him.
He groaned and let go, thrusting harder and faster, his face so beautiful to her as he allowed himself to chase his pleasure.
She felt herself climbing inevitably toward another climax, her whole body shivering at the rightness of him.
“Yes, good girl,” he murmured, sliding a hand between them to coax her. “Come for me again.”
The words sent her flying over the edge.
She felt him go with her on his next thrust, swelling to fill her to bursting, throbbing out a wild pleasure as he cried out her name.
When it was over, he lay beside her and pulled her onto his chest.
“Gods, lass, you’ll be the death of me,” he murmured into her hair.
“We can’t go to sleep, you know that right?” she whispered back.
“Like hell we can’t,” he scoffed.
“We can’t miss our own wedding,” she reminded him.
“Oh, right,” he laughed. “And didn’t your brothers say something about food?”
She nodded.
“Wait here,” he told her. “Do not go outside to make snow animals or run away on me. Do you hear me?”
“Scout’s honor,” she replied, holding up her hand.
“Do I need to know what you’re talking about?” he asked.
“It’s a mortal thing,” she said. “It means that I promise.”
He nodded and wrapped a sheet around his waist before heading to the door of the suite.
He returned a moment later with a huge tray of food, which he placed at the center of the bed.
Bowls of beautiful fruit glistened in cut glass bowls, piles of croissants and other fragrant pastries covered half the tray. Bowls of stew and platters of roasted vegetables covered the other.
“Good grief, how many people is that for?” she asked.
“You better not have invited anyone else, my princess,” he teased. “Besides, a big man like me needs nourishment.”
She smiled at the idea, which was surely true.
He left again and came back with a massive tray of drinks, which he set on the bedside table.
She watched as he poured out two goblets of wine.
“To us,” he said, lifting his.
“I’ll watch you,” she said.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
She patted her belly fondly. “Mortals don’t drink wine when they are pregnant.”
“Why not?” he asked, sounding horrified.
“Because it’s not healthy,” she replied. “Is there juice somewhere on that tray?”
“There is pear nectar,” he said doubtfully. “But you are not mortal.”