“I don’t buy it.” My fingernails dig into his skin. “Every decision has been the wrong one? What about choosing to stand with Farron in battle? What about saving Dayton’s life? What about—” My voice breaks with laughter and emotion. “What about not killing me on the bridge all those months ago? What about this?” I grab his hand and place it on my left wrist, on the skin he healed for me back in Autumn.
His helm shakes side to side. “Those weren’t choices to be made. They were just the right things to do.”
“Everything is a choice.” My hand drifts to his chest. I flick a smoldering gaze up at him.
He’s quiet for a long moment, breath reverberating through the helm. “Rosalina, I’ve warned you about the decisions I make.”
“Tell me,” I whisper, “does this feel right?”
Because for me it does. Like all the anxiety I’ve felt since I arrived in Spring and saw him facing his brother alone in the throne room, all but ebbs from my body. Like despite everything on the horizon, this moment could protect us from the world.
Another aching beat passes in stillness, my pounding heart and the rushing water the only sound. Then Ezryn grabs me around the waist, spinning us until my back is against the mist-sprayed wall. His hand tightly grips my jaw, the visor’s gaze penetrating. “Isn’t that just it, Petal? Why does this feel so right? You are mated twice over—”
“My mates love you. They love you, Ezryn. For once, stop thinking about everyone else. And choose me.”
My words seem to electrify him. A growl resounds from beneath his helm, and he drifts his hands over the curve of my waist to my hips. We’re so close to the spray of the shower, and I push away from him, walking backward and holding him with my gaze.
The water rushes over me, plastering my hair to my face and soaking through the thin pink dress I’m wearing. Ezryn’s palms press on the wall and the glass pane, trapping me.
I run my hands along the dress as it clings to my curves. The outline of my breasts is visible, and the helm’s gaze is laser focused on them.
“Come into the water with me, Ezryn.”
He does.
His hands tear the soaking dress up over my body. Water tings off his metal helm. I stroke along his collarbone, his muscular shoulders, clutch his biceps. I’m as starving for his touch as he is for mine.
He cups my breast and moans. The cool metal drops to the crook of my neck as he rocks his hips against mine. Through the towel, his hard length juts forward, pressing against me. Now it’s my turn to moan.
“Get rid of this. Now. Right now.” I tug on the towel.
He laughs, then hooks his fingers under the fabric. I push back so I can get a better view.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I cross my arms. “Come on, don’t make it weird. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”
Now I’ve done it. He takes his hands away from the towel and instead leans over me. “A long time?”
A flush spreads across my face. How can I tell him the first time I saw him sitting at the dining table in Castletree, I pictured him throwing me over it? “I mean, a respectable amount of time that is not at all creepy or weird.”
“Don’t worry.” He takes my hand and guides it over his bulging length hidden by the towel. “I’ve been thinking of you for a long time.”
I gasp, caressing the hardness. “You saw me when we were in the Below.”
“I could pass a thousand seasons staring at you and never have my fill of your beauty. I want you when the cherry blossoms fall in spring, and during the balmy nights of summer. I want you on a forest floor filled with autumn leaves and shivering in winter’s snow.”
My hands tighten around his length. “Then take off your damn towel.”
He drops it with a wet thunk, and I intake a deep breath. Ezryn stands before me, completely bare except for his helm. The massive cock between his leg bobs, and a stream of water runs down its length.
Our hands are over each other in a moment: my lips on his shoulder, the steady stream of water beating over us, his steel hardness in my hand.
He groans and dips his head to my breasts. I shiver at the cold metal pressing against my nipples. Then he makes an agitated growl. “I crave the taste of you.”
His huge hand cups the apex of my thighs before I have a chance to respond. I cry out and grind against him.
“You’re so beautifully wet for me, Baby Girl,” he murmurs. “I want you to come around my fingers.”