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Killed Pregnant by My Alpha Mate, I Woke Six Years Early and Chose His Rival novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: The Spring

The spring sat in a bowl of black rock below the lodge, ringed with ferns and steaming into the cold air.

Moonlight lay on the water in a long pale road.

I stood on the stone lip in nothing but Tavish's shirt, with my bare toes curled over the edge.

"Get in," he said from behind me.

"You first."

"I'm already in."

I looked down.

He sat in the water to his chest with his arms spread along the rocks.

His wet hair was pushed back, and he watched me with pale eyes.

The steam curled around his shoulders.

I pulled the shirt over my head and dropped it.

The night air hit my skin, and then I stepped into water so hot that I gasped.

It lapped around my knees, then my hips, then my breasts.

I waded to him through the steam.

He didn't move.

He let me come all the way, and when I stopped in front of his knees, he said, "Turn around."

I turned.

His hands settled on my hips, and he drew me backward until I sat on his thighs with my back against his chest.

I felt every inch of him under me.

He was hard already, a thick heat nestled against the cleft of my ass.

"Patient, aren't you," I said.

"I'm not."

"You are tonight."

"I'm being careful."

"Why?"

"Because I've waited to have you in the water since I saw you at the Rite."

His mouth found the side of my neck.

His hands slid up my ribs and cupped my breasts, and his thumbs circled the nipples until they were tight, slick points.

I let my head fall back on his shoulder.

The moon looked down.

His right hand left my breast and slid down my stomach under the water.

He found my clit with two fingers and rubbed it in slow, lazy circles, and the hot water made every touch feel thick and endless.

I moaned and tried to close my thighs.

"Open," he said.

I opened.

He slid one finger into me, then two, from behind, and with his thumb on my clit he fucked me slowly with his hand.

The water lapped and splashed with every movement.

I gripped his forearm and rode his fingers and bit my lip to keep from crying out.

"Let them hear you," he said. "Nobody's up here but the owls."

I cried out.

I came on his hand, shaking against his chest, with my eyes on the moon and my mouth open.

He held me through it and kissed my temple.

"One," he said.

"That's not fair."

"I'm not finished counting."

He let me lie against him a moment, panting, before he spoke again.

"Tell me what he did," he said, barely above a whisper. "The gloves."

I stiffened.

"Not tonight."

"Not the story. Just what you want done to him."

I thought about the knuckles hitting my cheek, and the taste of metal.

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