Page 76 of The Prince of Power

My heart leaps.

Yes.

Yes, my little Ava.

Defy me. Rail at me. Push me into this goddamn bathtub while I’m still in my robe.

Just come back to me.

She crosses her arms. “Alright, what am I supposed to do?”

I smirk, trying to conceal the joy tugging at my heart. “Fill the tub. Make sure it’s scalding hot.”

Her eyes narrow. “You really mean scalding?”

I nod, leaning back against the counter. “I like the pain.”

She walks to the bathtub and cranks the hot water to full blast. Steam flows through the air as the tub fills up. Ava stays by the faucet, her back to me, and I let my robe slip from my shoulders. The heavy fabric drops to the floor.

Ava turns at the same moment—and freezes.

Her breath catches audibly, her body locking up stiffly. But her eyes… Her eyes betray her. They dart down before she can stop them.

And then they widen.

A flush creeps up her throat, blooming across her cheeks as she swallows hard. She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even move.

Yes.

This is good.

She’s shocked and aroused. It’s the most emotion I’ve seen these past few days outside of her rant about the silly rituals at Thornecroft.

I’m also hard as a rock. Even in my frustration over her behavior lately, my cock can’t help but respond when she’s nearby.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I forgot that you’ve probably never seen a naked man before.”

Her spine goes straight. “Yes, I have.”

“Someone you’re not related to?”

Her gaze drops, and my heart clenches. This is my sweet Ava. Both proud and shy at the same time.

I step into the bath, hissing as the hot water licks up my legs. The heat sinks deep into my muscles, unwinding the tension that’s been knotted in my body since the night Kane took her. I lower myself fully, letting the water swallow me up to my chest.

I lean my head back against the edge. “I’ll wash my own hair. I don’t trust you not to get suds in my eyes. But you’ll wash my body. All of it. With your bare hands.”

“That’s inefficient,” she says. “I won’t be able to keep the soap in my hands. A washcloth is better.”

“Maybe.” I trail my fingers through the water. “But you’ll wash me with your hands.”

She exhales sharply through her nose and then reaches for the bottle of body wash. She walks around behind me, and my cock twitches. Her little gasp makes me smile.

Her hands are soft, smoothing over my shoulders and down my arms. The moment she presses with just a bit more pressure, a groan rumbles in my chest.

Jesus Christ.

This was all for her, and yet there’s a frantic, itching need building in my gut. The same need that made me stop myself from touching her in the pool that night.

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