Chapter 102 The call
The steam erased the edges of the world.
Water ran over tile and skin, soft and constant, and for once Aria’s mind did not race ahead of her. No strategy. No scanning for threat. No replaying what could go wrong.
Just Kane.
He started at her throat.
His mouth moved slowly and deliberately. To her collarbone, the curve of her breast, the place beneath where her breath caught. Every touch was patient and measured. As if he was mapping her again, reminding himself she was here. That she was safe with him.
When he lowered to his knees, her back met cool tile and a tremor ran through her.
“Kane.”
He glanced up once. His eyes had already gone gold.
He lifted her thigh over his shoulder and opened her with careful fingers, watching her face more than his hands.
For a flicker of a second, a thought tried to intrude. With everything going on, was this the right time for this?
Kane’s mouth found her clit and the thought shattered.
Her fingers tangled in his hair.
He moved unhurriedly, tongue slow and purposeful, learning her reactions like he learned everything else, through attention. When her hips jerked, he stayed there.
When her breath broke, he adjusted. He controlled the pace with a firm hand at her hip, giving, then denying, never letting her slip away into anything but sensation.
“Goddess,” she breathed.
He hummed against her, and the vibration pulled a broken sound from her throat.
When he slid two fingers inside her, curling them just enough, her head fell back against the tile. He worked her steadily, mouth and hand in ruthless coordination, until her thighs trembled and her grip in his hair tightened.
“Don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
He worked both at once. His mouth on her clit and his fingers pressing deep.
When she tried to grind against his face he held her still with his free hand, his fingers digging into her hip, controlling exactly how much she got and when.
The orgasm hit hard and she saw stars. Her whole body locked. Her thighs clamped around his head and he pressed closer, his fingers driving deeper, his mouth sealed against her and working her through every wave until she was shaking and pulling at his hair and her legs had stopped being reliable entirely.
He withdrew his fingers slowly. Pressed one last open kiss against her entrance. Then he rose.
Water ran down his chest, his shoulders. He looked at her not with arrogance, but with a quiet satisfaction that said he had meant to undo her and had succeeded.
“You are shaking,” he said.
“I am aware,”
The corner of his mouth moved.
He reached past her and shut the water off.
The air felt cooler instantly. He took a towel and dried his hands first, then his face. Then he turned to her.
He dried her carefully. Shoulders. Arms. Down her sides. His palms pressed the towel against her skin like he had nowhere else to be.
He dropped the towel.
Then he lifted her up. His hands were firm at the backs of her thighs. Her legs wrapped around him on instinct, and when she felt how hard he still was against her, warmth curled low in her stomach again.
They were definitely not finished.
He carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. He stayed above her, one arm braced beside her head, his eyes moving over her body with open intention.
“Tell me what you want,” he said quietly.
There was no dominance in it. Just directness.
“I want to feel you,” she answered. “All of you.”
He positioned himself slowly, dragging once between her thighs before pressing forward. He entered her inch by inch, not rushing, watching her face as he filled her completely.
They both went still.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “You feel…”
“Move,” she said. “Please.”
He withdrew and thrust back in, deeper this time. Not frantic. Not reckless. Every stroke deliberate, weight behind it. His hips rolled, finding the place he already knew would undo her.
She dragged her nails down his back and he answered by driving harder, the mattress shifting beneath them.
Her second climax began low and heavy, building slower than the first.
His mouth found her throat. His teeth grazed her pulse.
“My Aria,” he murmured. “My mate.”
Something inside her tightened, not just from pleasure. From the way he said it. Like a vow. Like a promise he would kill for.
“Oh Kane…” Her voice was barely there.
His hand slid between her thighs. His thumb found her clit and pressed and rubbed in tight circles while he kept thrusting inside her. The combination was almost too much. She grabbed his shoulders and held on.
“Look at me,” he said.
She forced her eyes to his. Gold all the way through.
“I want to feel you come on me,” he said. “Now.”
Her body obeyed before her mind did. The orgasm broke through her completely. She clenched around him hard and felt him groan against her neck, his hips stuttering, his rhythm fracturing for the first time.
“Aria.” Her name came out rough.
He thrust twice more and then buried himself deep, holding there as release pulled through him in a quiet, restrained sound he would never let anyone else hear.
Afterward, he rolled to his side and drew her against his chest without a word.
They stayed still for a long moment.
He lowered himself beside her and pulled her against his chest without a word. Her head found the curve of his shoulder. His arm came around her waist.
Aria pressed her palm flat over his heart and felt it slow beneath her hand.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much.”
He exhaled.
She felt the shift happen. The tension draining from him in degrees. The warrior. The alpha. The man who slept with one part of himself always awake.
Tonight, that part dimmed.
His chin rested against her head. His breathing evened out.
She listened to it, memorizing the rhythm, wondering how long they would get to keep moments like this.
He was fully asleep when the phone vibrated.
Not a ring. A sharp, insistent buzz against the nightstand.
His arm tightened around her before his eyes even opened.
The shift was instant.
Warmth to readiness. No space between.
He reached for the phone.
Marcus.
He pressed it to his ear. “What.”
Silence on Aria’s end. She couldn’t hear the words, only the cadence.
Kane went very still.
“Say that again.”
Another pause.
Whatever Marcus said next changed something. Kane’s jaw tightened. His gaze unfocused slightly, like he was already calculating.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said finally, voice flat.
He ended the call.
Aria pushed herself up on one elbow. “Kane.”
He looked at her. His eyes were dark again but no longer soft.
“Marcus found something,” he said.
“What kind of something?”
Silence.
“He sounded careful,” Kane said.
That was worse.
Aria felt the quiet in the room shift.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
Kane’s gaze moved toward the dark window.
“It means,” he said slowly, “whatever he found wasn’t meant to be seen.”