Page 109 of Thor

I obeyed, my back to him as his fingers found the zipper of my skirt. The sound of it lowering felt obscenely loud in the steamy bathroom. The fabric loosened, then fell to pool around my ankles. I stepped out of it, still in my heels, now wearing only the emerald lingerie set.

Thor's hands settled on my hips, his thumbs making small circles on my bare skin. I could feel the heat of him behind me, the restraint in his touch. I stood perfectly still, caught in that exquisite space between my two selves – the accomplished professional and the vulnerable Little – a middle ground that only existed with Thor.

"My beautiful girl," he whispered, his breath hot against my neck. His words sent shivers cascading down my spine, making my nipples tighten beneath the emerald satin.

I turned to face him, sudden boldness rising through my vulnerability. My hands found the hem of his black t-shirt, tugging upward. "Your turn."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth – surprised, pleased. He raised his arms, allowing me to pull the shirt over his head, revealing the sprawling Norse tattoos across his broad chest and arms. Mjölnir, Thor's hammer, dominated his back – I'd trace it later with my tongue.

"The bath will get cold," he reminded me, though his eyes said he'd forgotten all about it.

"We wouldn't want that." I reached behind myself, unhooked my bra, and let it drop to the floor.

The air between us charged instantly. Thor's eyes darkened as they roved over my exposed breasts, the emerald thong the only barrier remaining. His jaw tightened, the tendons in his neck standing out with the effort of his control.

"You're fucking perfect," he growled, hands still at his sides as if touching me might break his resolve.

I stood before him, half-naked yet feeling more powerful than I had all day in my corporate armor. This was the gift Thor gave me – the space to be everything I was, without hiding any piece of myself.

"Your bath awaits, princess," he said finally, his voice a delicious blend of Daddy dominance and raw male hunger.

The water embraced me like a warm caress as Thor's strong arms lowered me into the bath. Steam rose around us, beading on his forearms where he'd rolled up his sleeves. I sank into the lavender-scented water with a sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside me—a place that had been wound tight all day, waiting for this release.

Thor knelt beside the claw-foot tub, his massive frame folding with surprising grace. He rolled his sleeves further up, revealing more of his tattooed forearms. I watched, mesmerized by the play of muscles beneath his skin as he reached for a soft washcloth.

"Lean forward," he instructed, his voice gentle but carrying that undercurrent of command that made my stomach flutter.

I obeyed, drawing my knees to my chest. The warm water sloshed around my breasts, partially concealing them. Thor dipped the washcloth into the water, wrung it out, and began washing my shoulders with slow, deliberate circles.

"You're carrying so much tension here," he murmured, pressing his thumb into a knot at the base of my neck. The pressure was exquisite – pain and pleasure intertwined in a way that made me gasp.

"Busy week," I managed, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears.

"More than busy. You were magnificent today." His hands moved in practiced patterns, finding every tight muscle, every point of tension. "Watching you command that room of suits—fuck, Mandy. You had them eating out of your hand."

The cloth made lazy circles across my shoulder blades. What had started as washing had become a massage, his strong fingers working beneath the wet cloth to release knots I hadn't even realized I was carrying. I melted under his touch, my head dropping forward.

"I wanted to make you proud," I admitted softly, the vulnerability of the confession making my cheeks heat.

Thor's hands paused on my shoulders. "Amanda Wright," he said, using my full name in that way he did when he wanted my complete attention. "I'm always proud of you."

My throat tightened. I blinked rapidly at the unexpected sting of tears.

His hands resumed their path, moving down my arms now. The cloth glided over my skin, leaving trails of tingling awareness in its wake. He lifted each arm in turn, washing from shoulder to fingertip with meticulous care. It was reverent, this bathing. Almost ceremonial.

"Why did you do this?" I asked, curious about the elaborate setup – the bath bombs, the lights, the heated towels I could see folded on the warming rack.

Thor's mouth quirked up at one corner. "Because my girl pushed herself hard today. Because she deserves to be taken care of." His massive shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Because I wanted to."

Simple. Direct. So very Thor.

The cloth moved to my collarbone now, sweeping in long strokes across my chest. I watched his face, the intense concentration in his blue eyes, the slight furrow between his brows. His hand hesitated at the swell of my breasts, just below the water line.

Our eyes met. The air between us thickened.

I arched slightly, an invitation. My nipples tightened in anticipation, visible through the milky water.

Thor's nostrils flared. The washcloth disappeared beneath the surface. His callused hand, now free of the cloth, cupped my breast. His thumb circled my nipple with devastating precision, just firm enough to send sparks shooting down to my core.

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