“Let me,” he said softly, reaching for a bottle of shower gel. He poured some into his palm, then began tother it across my shoulders and down my back.


    His touch was gentle but thorough, covering every inch of my skin with the lightly scented soap that smelled like him–a woodsy, masculine scent that I’de to associate with safety and desire in equal measure. He was marking me with his scent, I realized. Erasing all traces of William and recing it with his own.


    I should have been offended by the possessiveness of the gesture, but instead, I found it oddlyforting. After years with William, who had touched me with increasing indifference toward the end, Dominic’s focused attention was intoxicating.


    His hands moved to my arms, massaging the soap into my skin, then to my stomach, inching higher until they cupped my breasts. I gasped, arching into his touch despite myself.


    “Turn around,” he instructed, his voice husky.


    I did as he asked,ing face to face with him for the first time since we’d entered the shower. Water sluiced down his body, making his tanned skin gleam. Droplets clung to his eyshes, and his dark hair was stered to his forehead. He looked younger somehow, more approachable.


    “I don’t like the smell of another wolf on you,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Especially not him. Not the one who hurt you.”


    The genuine concern in his voice caught me off guard. Through our tentative bond, I could feel his protective fury, directed not at me but at William. It was a heady sensation, having someone want to protect me rather than control <ol><li>me. </li></ol>


    ‘I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I didn’t think about how it would affect you.”


    His hands paused in their ministrations, his eyes searching my face. “You’re not going to see him again.”


    It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway, “I don’t want to see him again.”


    Dominic nodded, satisfied with my response. His hands resumed their exploration, moving lower now, across my stomach, over my hips. When they reached the apex of my thighs, I inhaled sharply.


    “Let me rece his scent with mine,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. “Let me make you forget he ever touched you.”


    His fingers found my center, stroking with a precision that made my knees weak. I clutched at his shoulders for support, a soft moan escaping my lips.


    64


    Dominic backed me against the shower wall, lifting one of my legs to wrap around his waist. The position opened me to him, and he took full advantage, his fingers exploring, teasing, building a pressure inside me that threatened


    to explode.


    “Dominic,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders.


    “Yes?” he asked, a hint of smugness in his voice as he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves that made me shudder.


    “Please,” I whispered, beyond pride or shame, wanting only the release he was skillfully building toward.


    “Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his fingers slowing their pace just enough to be maddening.


    “I want you,” I admitted, the words torn from me by need. “Inside me. Now.”


    A primal satisfaction shed in his eyes. He lifted mepletely, both my legs wrapping around his waist as he positioned himself at my entrance. With one powerful thrust, he was inside me, filling mepletely.


    I cried out at the sensation, my head falling back against the shower wall. Dominic’s mouth found my neck, kissing, sucking, marking me as his even as his body imed me in the most fundamental way.


    The steam, the water cascading over us, the slick slide of our bodies together–it was overwhelming, intoxicating. Each thrust drove me higher, closer to the edge. Dominic seemed to know exactly how to move, how to touch me, as if he could read my body’s responses through our bond.


    “Mine,” he growled against my neck, his pace increasing. “Say it, Reba. Say you’re mine.”


    In that moment, caught in the spiral of pleasure he was creating, I couldn’t have denied him anything. “Yours,” I gasped, the word punctuated by a particrly deep thrust that made me see stars.


    That single word seemed to break something loose in Dominic. His control slipped, his movements bing faster, more urgent. One hand moved between us, finding that sensitive spot again, circling it in time with his thrusts.


    The dual stimtion was too much. I shattered around him, waves of pleasure crashing through me as I cried out his name. Dominic followed momentster, his body tensing, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he found his own release.


    For several heartbeats, we remained joined, our ragged breathing the only sound besides the running water. Dominic’s forehead rested against mine, his eyes closed. Through our strengthening bond, I could feel his satisfaction, his contentment.


    Slowly, carefully, he lowered me back to my feet, steadying me when my legs threatened to give way. Without a word, he reached for the shampoo, pouring some into his palm before working it into my hair.


    The intimate gesture surprised me. It was one thing to have passionate sex in the shower–that fit with the dominant, possessive Alpha persona. But this gentle care, his fingers massaging my scalp, rinsing the suds from my hair with such tenderness–it revealed a side of Dominic I hadn’t expected.


    64


    When we were both clean, Dominic turned off the water and reached for arge, fluffy towel. He wrapped it around me before grabbing another for himself.


    “Feel better?” he asked, a hint of smugness returning to his expression.


    Despite myself, I smiled. “Yes.”


    He nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now you smell like me again.”


    I should have been annoyed by the territorial statement, but after the emotional roller coaster of the day, I found it oddlyforting. Dominic picked me up again, carrying me out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.


    The massive king–sized bed dominated the space, its dark blueforter inviting after the emotional and physical exhaustion of the day. Dominicid me gently in the center of it, then disappeared back into the bathroom. He returned momentster with a smaller towel, which he used to dry my hair with surprising gentleness.


    “You don’t have to do that,” I said softly.


    He shrugged. “I want to.”


    Once my hair was reasonably dry, Dominic climbed into bed beside me, pulling me against his chest. His skin was warm against mine, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.


    “Sleep, little doe,” hemanded softly, his hand stroking my back in a soothing rhythm.


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