Page 46 of Eight Embers

“Uh, guys? Isaid, there's room for all of you in here?”

It takes a few minutes, but I hear footsteps.

Surprisingly, it's Wil that enters the bathroom, sans his cute little checkered collared button up he was wearing. I'm not going to lie, he's not muscled up or anything like that, but I find his skinny body absolutely adorable. I just want to wrap myself around it like a stripper pole.

Wow, I must really need to be fed.

My back is to him, but he walked in here willingly, so he had to know I'd be naked in the shower. Right? Oh. “Wil, do fundamentalists usually wear suits in the shower? Were you expecting me to have something on when you walked in here?”

He still doesn't say anything, so I look over my shoulder at him and notice how hard he's breathing. His eyes are locked on my ass, which with the height at which my hands are stuck has itpopping out just a little bit. I'm sure it looks phenomenal. A sexting wet dream.

Without breaking contact with my cheeks, he opens his pants and drops them, walking into the shower stall to join me as if he's in a daze.

He accidentally brushes across my arm when he shuts the door, making me bite back a whimper. Up until now, he hasn’t touched me a whole lot because he hasn’t been comfortable with it, but I'm getting the feeling that something has changed.

“Are you okay?”

Finally, he looks at my face. I watch his throat bob as he swallows, his hands clutching and unclutching like he's physically stopping himself from reaching for me. “I want to try and take care of you, Delaney. If that demon can feed you, I can feed you, too. If I'm going to be one of your men, I want to be yourman. Does that make sense?”

I mean, hot. But what if it's some weird magic in this room influencing him in some way? “Are you sure you're ready for that? Because you know I don't expect anything other than you know, hanging out or whatever. We can go at whatever speed you want to, Wil. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

He shakes his head and steps closer to me, leaning his chest over my back while keeping his hips away from mine. He's tall enough that it works. “I'm sick of being good, Delaney. Sick of following rules I don't want to follow. Sick of feeling guilty for wanting to kiss you whenever I want. Sick of watching other people take things from you that I want to be taking as well. Maybe it's because I'm so far from home right now that it feels like I don't have to listen to any of the voices inside my head, but if there's one thing on this damn earth —planet? I don't know where we are. But if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that Iwant you. You're my soul mate. I'm yours, too. That means these things I feel for you aren’t wrong, or bad, or inappropriate.”

I open my mouth to say something, not sure what, but it doesn't matter much anyways. Because he's reaching for my face and twisting it gently so that he can kiss me. He comes across as confident and desperate all at the same time, a wild cocktail that has me desperate for more.

“Are you comfortable? Do you want a different position?”

Wow, I guess we're really just getting into it, aren't we? “It appears I need help washing up. I think the name on this hotel was literal. That's what Saladriel was trying to warn us about. Trope hotel? You know, like tropes in a romance novel? Have you heard of those? Sometimes in books, one of the main characters gets hurt or is really tired, and they need their partner to wash them and it's this sweet, romantic, sexy thing. Well, my hands are completely stuck to the wall. I got as far as getting my hair wet, but I can't do anything else. So, I'm gonna need you to wash my back for me. And possibly my hair? And anything else you want to...”

He flashes me a smile that would be more fitting on Rush before taking a few steps back to look me up and down. “Hey Spencer,” he calls. “I'm gonna need a hand in here.”

I swear to you, it's like a switch just flipped inside of him. The geeky, shy boy I knew is nowhere to be found as he gathers my hair gently and then tugs it down, so I'm forced to look up. My neck is exposed, and he leans forward to nibble on it. “Better be careful what you ask for, you know goats have a reputation for eatingeverything,”he bleats in my ear.

FuckI’m so turned on right now.

I haven't used a lot of restraints with any other mates, but I find myself almost nervous as Spencer walks in with his jaw dropped and takes in the scene.

“Our mate needs us to wash her it seems,” Wil explains. “The hotel is keeping her captive and won't let her wash her own body. I'm thinking we've been walking a lot and are gonna need to be pretty darned thorough.” He rubs his hands together like he just can’t wait to get started.

Spencer does a double take at Wil and then looks at me with his eyebrows raised and I shut my mouth right up and don't say a damn thing. I don’t want to ruin whatever mood Wil is in. No thank you. So I shrug and motion with my head to my stuck hands and I'm not sure how much he understands, but when I give him a nod and he realizes he has permission to touch me, it's game on.

“Limits? Triggers? Do we need a code word?” Spencer asks calmly. He seems way too prepared for this exact situation.

“I don't enjoy pain with sex, don't enjoy orgasm denial. It makes me a really grumpy bitch. Don't even try it, I will castrate you.” I say sweetly.

“Noted,” Spencer says before ripping off his black shirt and baring his bronze chest. Holy shit is he ripped. I mean, I knew he was on the football team so it makes sense to have the kind of muscles he does, and when his track pants drop to reveal massive thighs, I'm pretty sure angelic sounds come out of me in a really embarrassing area.

“You're going to look at me right now,” Wil says. “I don't want to be your boyfriend, Delaney. I may not be the loudest of your mates, or the funniest, or the anythingist, and I don't even care if there's something weird about this realm making me feel bold. All I care about right now is that I'm here, and that you needme. And you're looking at me like you might actually want me to touch you.”

“I do want you to touch me,” I say on a whisper.

Spencer has started getting my hair saturated with water again and squirting shampoo into his palms, then proceeds to give me the most amazing scalp massage I've had in months. His fingers are strong from gripping that football, his arms perfect, and holy shit is he dedicated to his task.

Wil squats next to me and runs his hands up and down the sides of my calves. “It seems to me you’re stuck. Won't be able to move at all, right? I'm going to need to get every inch of you clean, and I'm going to need to make real sure I do a good job. Probably going to have to look real close. Maybe even go over some specific areas twice.”

Okay, now I'm getting desperate for somebody to touch me. But not just anybody. Wil is driving me absolutely crazy as Spencer keeps lightly brushing against me over and over again as he works my hair.

It's a bit torturous to be stuck in one place as Wil grabs a washcloth from outside the shower and slathers some body wash into it, looking me over while he figures out where to start.

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