Page 15 of Yasmin and the Yeti
His self-control had never been an issue before, but he had never been so tempted. The thought of crawling beneath the furs and holding her against him was almost irresistible. He snarled, his claws extending and retracting in frustration as he battled with his instincts.
He couldn’t trust himself right now.
He stomped off into the snow, focusing on the chill wind against his fur and the sound of the ice crystals shifting beneath his feet instead of the need pulsing in his veins. He would find something to occupy his mind— perhaps there would be a skarn to hunt, or he would check the traps he’d set to catch the small herbivores that occasionally ventured out in the winter.
But he already suspected that nothing would clear his thoughts of her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next few days fell into an unexpectedly comfortable routine. Rhaal continued the language lessons, and he was always willing to show Yasmin whatever task he was working on. He even let her help him, and he proved to be a remarkably patient teacher. Those moments were the most rewarding, but also the most challenging.
They would be working together side by side, and then he’d accidentally touch her or she would brush against him, and the air would thicken with tension. He would freeze and she would see the conflict on his face before he’d flee out into the snow, leaving her to pace the cave, wondering why she was so attracted to him. And she was attracted, in spite of their differences.
Those accidental touches affected her just as much. And the more she witnessed the lonely, tortured male beneath the fearsome facade, the more her heart went out to him
The bone-deep exhaustion of her ordeal gradually faded away. Her strength returned and she could walk more easily, though her feet still bore the lingering traces of frostbite.
Now that she felt better, she even found herself missing the daily shower in the slave ship. She’d managed to rinse her face and hands in the small bowl of water he provided each morning, but it wasn’t enough. She desperately wanted a bath, but how did she ask for a bath in a language she barely knew?
Determined to try, she went to join him. He was arranging skewers of meat at the back of the fireplace to smoke gently. He looked up as she approached, the usual mixture of pleasure and apprehension on his face. When his glowing blue eyes fixed on her, she mimed washing her arms, her face, then gestured to her whole body.
“I’d really like a bath.”
Understanding dawned immediately in his eyes. He retrieved a large, carved stone basin from a nook at the rear of the cave and placed it in front of the fireplace. Then he disappeared through the hide curtain that separated their cave from the howling wilderness beyond. At least the storm was finally passing, the periods between the squalls increasing each day.
When he returned, he carried a large container of snow. He set it to heat over the fire, then poured it into the basin. Steam rose in fragrant tendrils—he’d added something to the water, some kind of herb that smelled like pine and something sweeter.
When the basin was full, he straightened to his full height and moved over to the far wall, turning his back to give her a semblance of privacy.
She stared at his broad back, suddenly aware of the intimacy of the situation. The only remotely private place in the cave was the small latrine in a crevice to the rear and she certainly didn’t wantto bathe there. But the cave was small. Even though he couldn’t see her, he would hear everything.
Her hands trembled slightly as she pulled the hide tunic he’d created for her over her head. The sound of the hide sliding over her skin seemed unnervingly loud in the quiet cave. She could see Rhaal’s ears twitch at the sound, though he didn’t turn.
The air felt cool against her naked skin, raising goosebumps along her arms. She stepped carefully into the basin. The water was blissfully hot as she slipped one foot in, then the other. She lowered herself into the basin, which was just large enough for her to sit with her knees drawn up. A small sigh of pleasure escaped her lips before she could stop it.
His big shoulders tensed at the sound, and she could feel his restraint like a physical force as she cupped water in her hands and let it stream over her shoulders, down her chest. She knew he could hear the splash of water against her skin, her soft movements as she began to wash away the grime of her ordeal.
She reached for the cake of something that smelled like soap that he’d left beside the basin. It created a rich lather between her palms, and she worked it through her hair and over her body, acutely conscious of his presence just feet away.
His breathing deepened, became more deliberate. She could see the rise and fall of his shoulders, the controlled tension in his stance. The awareness of that leashed power, of his acute consciousness of her nakedness, sent an unexpected thrill through her.
She rose to her feet to rinse away the last of the soap, but she was distracted by the strange, new feelings coursing through her and her foot slipped on the smooth stone bottom.
“Oh!” she cried out as she began to fall backward, arms flailing.
He was there immediately, moving so quickly she didn’t even see him turn. One moment he was across the cave, the next moment he’d caught her, yanking her against his chest, his fur soft against her wet, naked skin.
Time seemed to freeze. She was cradled against his chest, water streaming from her body, soaking into his white fur. His glowing blue eyes were wide with concern, but they darkened into something else entirely as awareness of her nakedness registered.
A rumble began deep in his chest—not a growl of anger, but something deeper, more primal. His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes, a question burning there.
At that moment, she made a decision. Instead of pulling away, she went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.
He went completely rigid with shock, but the rumble in his chest deepened, vibrating through her body, leaving her breathless. His massive hands tightened around her, then loosened, as if he was afraid of crushing her.
He started to say something but she took advantage of the opportunity to slip her tongue between his lips. He tasted as good as she’d imagined and a small, needy sound escaped her throat. That sound seemed to break something in him. With a growl that was pure need, he took over, his arms pulling her so tightly against him that she could scarcely breathe. His tongue plunged between her lips, claiming her mouth with a ferocious desire that matched her own. His fangs scraped her lower lip and sent a shockwave of pleasure through her body. She clung to him, burying her fingers in his thick mane.
He growled again and lifted her into his arms, the soft fur on his chest teasing her aching nipples as he pulled her even tighter. One big hand cupped the back of her head, holding her in place for his kiss, and the other supported her ass. The thick ridge of his erection pressed against her core, and a fresh wave of arousal swept over her. She squirmed eagerly, trying to get even closer.
