~ RONAN ~

I would have noticed that she had just shrieked out loud if I hadn’t been so fucking occupied staring at her drop-dead gorgeous body.

Creamy, smooth skin flushed from the shock of the cold. Fading bruises and thin silvery marks mar her thighs and ribs, reminders of what that fucking monster did to her. The sight makes Kael snarl inside me, a deadly promise that those marks will disappear under my tongue if I have anything to say about it. My eyes drag lower: the gentle curve of her waist that flares into lush, wider hips, the soft swell of her ass, and the dark triangle between her thighs that makes my mouth water.

Fuck. Me.

My cock hardens instantly, thick and aching, straining painfully against my pants. Heat floods my veins. All I can think about is dropping to my knees right here on the wet tile, spreading those thighs, and burying my face between them until she’s shaking and signing my name in broken strokes. I want to taste her, mark her, claim every inch until the only scent on her skin is mine.

She lets out a soft, shaky sound, half gasp, half something more, and her hands fly up to cover herself, arms crossing over her full breasts, one hand shyly dropping lower.

"I’m sorry... the water was just so cold..." she signs, cheeks burning crimson. Her hazel eyes are wide, vulnerable, but there’s a flicker of heat in them too as she notices the way I’m staring.

I blink hard, trying to drag my gaze away, but it’s useless. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. My hands fist at my sides, claws threatening to push through. The primal part of me wants to rip the rest of my clothes off and join her, pin her wet body to mine, and sink deep until she forgets every nightmare Warren ever gave her.

And then I blink, quickly looking away... "You just shrieked out loud, you..." The thought immediately dawns on me, but then it suddenly hits me that I need to step out and allow her to bathe. This moment, as monumental as it is, needs to wait. She needs privacy. She needs space.

"I’m sorry," I say, turning away from her and moving toward the door. "I’ll be out."

I close the door behind me and lean against it, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind reeling. She spoke. Roselle fucking spoke.

Minutes later, she steps out wrapped in the soft white robe I left for her. The belt is tied neatly around her waist, but the fabric still clings to her damp skin, outlining the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. A few droplets of water trail down her neck and disappear between her cleavage. My mouth goes dry. My cock twitches hard, pressing insistently against my zipper like it has its own fucking agenda.

Awkward tension fills the room.

Her cheeks flush a deep, pretty pink the second her eyes meet mine. She looks away quickly, biting her lower lip, one hand clutching the robe’s collar a little tighter. The shy gesture only makes me hungrier. I want to peel that robe off slowly, back her into the wall, and drop to my knees right here.

Dinner is already set on the low table near the window—Celeste’s doing, bless her. Warm plates of grilled meat, roasted vegetables, fresh bread, and herbal tea. It smells incredible.

Under any other circumstances I’d try to lighten the mood, tease her gently, pull her onto my lap and feed her bites until she smiles.

But right now? I can’t.

Kael and my dick have an entirely different plan, and it doesn’t involve dinner.

"I’ve never seen a man blame his wolf for every damn thing the way you do," Kael scoffs. "Tell me, when you finally run out of excuses, are you going to blame the moon too?"

I push off the door, stalking toward her slowly. My voice comes out low, rough, almost strained. "You look... edible."

Her blush deepens. She glances up at me through her lashes, then away again, fingers fidgeting with the robe’s tie. The movement draws my eyes right back to the knot like it’s a gift I’m dying to unwrap.

I stop just short of touching her, close enough that I can smell the clean, warm scent of her skin mixed with the lingering steam. My hand lifts on its own, knuckles brushing a stray droplet off her collarbone. The contact sends a jolt straight to my groin.

"Roselle..." I murmur, fighting every instinct to drag her against me. "If you want me to behave tonight... you might need to put on more clothes. Because right now all I can think about is how fucking perfect you looked in that shower. And how badly I want to hear that pretty voice again—especially when I’m buried between your legs."

I force myself to take one step back, giving her the choice, even as my body screams at me to close the distance.

Her hazel eyes widen instantly, a fresh, deeper blush explodes across her cheeks and down her neck, turning her skin that delicious rosy shade I’m quickly becoming addicted to. She makes a soft, flustered sound and scurries away from me toward the closet, clutching the robe tighter around her body.

I can’t help but chuckle, watching the way her hips sway under the robe as she moves.

She disappears into the closet for a moment. I drag a hand down my face, trying to get myself under control, then move to the table Celeste set up. The food smells good, but it’s nowhere near as appetizing as the woman currently changing just a few feet away.

When Roselle emerges again, she’s in one of my oversized shirts and soft shorts—still far too tempting. The hem of the shirt brushes her thighs, and I know she’s not wearing anything underneath. She avoids my eyes as she approaches the table, cheeks still flushed.

I pull out her chair for her like a proper gentleman, then settle into the seat right beside her instead of across the table.

Dinner is quiet.

Roselle eats slowly, stealing shy glances at me between bites. I keep one hand on the back of her chair, thumb absently stroking her shoulder. Every time she licks sauce off her lower lip I have to fight the urge to lean in and taste it myself. Kael is restless, pushing images of spreading her out on this very table, but I keep my grip on the reins. Barely.

When we finally finish, I stand and offer her my hand. She takes it without hesitation, letting me lead her over to the large bed. I pull the covers back for her, guiding her to sit on the edge. Then I cup her face gently with both hands, tilting it up toward me.

I press a soft, lingering kiss to her chin, then another just beneath her lower lip—teasing, tender, full of restraint. Her breath hitches.

"Go to sleep, Rosie" I murmur against her skin, voice low and rough. "You’ve had a long day and you need rest."

She blinks up at me, eyes searching mine, but I’m already stepping back.

"I’ll take the couch tonight."

Her brows pull together in a small frown, but I shake my head before she can sign anything.

"I’m being a gentleman," I say with a crooked, slightly pained smile. "Trust me... if I get in that bed with you right now, I won’t be one for long. And you need sleep more than you need me losing control."

I lean down one last time, brushing my lips over her forehead.

"Sweet dreams, Roselle."

Then I turn away, grab a spare blanket, and head for the couch across the room. I stretch out on it, one arm thrown over my eyes, my body still humming with unresolved hunger. My cock is half-hard and complaining loudly, but I ignore it.

I’m a gentleman tonight. Even if it fucking kills me.