Alyssa clutched the towel against her chest, her fingers tightening into the fabric as the maids quickly filed out of the bathroom, leaving her alone with Dorian.
Dorian shut the door with a soft click and turned around. The moment his gaze met hers, the air turned heavy, charged with a dark, sultry intensity.
She looked away, unable to hold eye contact for another second. Her pulse raced, hammering loudly in her ears and drowning out every other sound.
When he took a sudden step forward, her eyes widened. She backed away instinctively, holding the towel like a shield before her.
The faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips told her exactly how she looked right now; like a cornered prey about to be devoured by a predator.
The steam in the bathroom wrapped around him, dampening the fabric of his shirt until it stuck to his skin. In one fluid motion, he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
Her breath caught. Her eyes betrayed her, instantly raking across the sharp, defined planes of his chest and abs. Every muscle flexed smoothly as he moved, sparking a sudden, involuntary ache in her hands to reach out and touch him.
Her gaze drifted lower, tracing the tattooed symbol on his torso until it vanished beneath the waistband of his trousers, and lower still until she noticed the prominent bulge of his arousal.
Her face burned with sudden heat as her mind flashed back to when she sat on his lap and felt the solid weight throbbing against her ass.
She forced her eyes away, her throat going dry.
"Done looking?" Dorian murmured, head tilted to the side, golden-brown eyes locked onto her.
Alyssa stepped back again, wrapping the towel tighter around her chest. "I wasn’t looking."
"Liar."
He stalked forward with slow, predatory strides, closing the gap until her back pressed flat against the cold, tiled wall.
Trapping her completely, he planted his hands on either side of her head. His gaze dropped to the towel, his eyes darkening.
"Why are you shielding yourself from me?" he asked, his voice dropping into a low, husky rasp. His fingers hooked around the edge of the towel, but Alyssa held on tightly, refusing to let go.
"Did... did you expect me to stand naked before you?" she whispered, trembling under his close proximity.
Dorian’s devilish smile widened. Releasing the towel, he cupped her chin and tilted her face upward, forcing her deep blue eyes to meet his.
"Have you forgotten, little lamb, that I’ve seen everything there is to see?"
He leaned closer, his mouth hovering just a fraction of an inch from hers. Alyssa involuntarily moved her face closer, desperate to close the remaining distance and feel those full lips on hers.
"That night at Iridian," he continued, his warm breath brushing her mouth. "When you gave yourself to me, begging to be touched, to be kissed... to be ruined."
"I was drunk," she said in a raspy defense, trying to clear her mind as desire blurred her thoughts and made her thighs clench. "I didn’t know what I was saying."
A low chuckle rumbled deep in Dorian’s throat. He dragged his thumb across her lower lip, the gold in his eyes turning to liquid fire.
He leaned down, trailing his lips over her cheekbone until his breath fanned her ear.
"If that were true, then why is your heart racing? Why can I smell your arousal? Why do you look like you’re dying for me to kiss you?"
Alyssa swallowed hard. He was so right. She wanted him to kiss her. She ached to feel the delicious press of his mouth on hers.
Before she could form a coherent reply, he moved. His hands slid down, anchoring firmly around the thick swell of her hips.
She gasped as he lifted her. Her hands instinctively let go of the towel, fingers gripping the solid muscles of his forearms to steady herself.
He swung her around and set her down on the tiled counter. The sudden movement sent the towel slipping off her chest and dropping to bunch around her waist, leaving her entirely bare to his gaze.
Her eyes widened in mortification. She immediately scrambled to lift it and cover herself, but Dorian caught her wrists, pinning them gently behind her spine.
"Dorian, please," she whimpered.
"Don’t hide from me, Alyssa," he rasped softly, his deep gaze boring into her. "Let me look at you."
She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "No, it’s not that... it’s the scars."
Dorian’s gaze dropped. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, her skin flushing under his intense scrutiny.
His breath turned heavy as his eyes lingered on her breasts. Soft, full, and perfectly rounded. Her nipples peaked under his stare, and deep within his mind, his inner wolf clawed fiercely at the surface, a primal urge demanding to break free, to mark her skin, and claim her on the spot.
But he forced the beast back down. When he marked her, she would be willing. She would be ready.
His gaze traveled lower, locking onto the faded marks marring her smooth skin. There had to be hundreds of them. Old, jagged scars of past whippings, scars he hadn’t noticed that night at Iridian.
Whoever did this to her must have been terribly cruel. The scars were everywhere; on her chest, the flat column of her stomach, her arms.
A murderous fury suddenly flared in his chest. Whoever had laid a hand on her would suffer a slow, brutal death.
As his silence stretched, a single tear spilled down Alyssa’s cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for his disgust. She thought he found the scars repulsive.
But Dorian simply wiped the moisture away with his thumb, his touch unexpectedly tender as he cradled her face.
"Look at me," he murmured, his tone soft and soothing.
She opened her eyes, the raw, bleeding vulnerability in her gaze holding him and his inner wolf completely captive.
With a deep, feral growl, his possessiveness took over, burying the rage. He parted her thighs, pulling her firmly to the very edge of the counter until her legs wrapped around his waist.
"Lock your ankles around me," he commanded gruffly.
Her body complied instantly, like it had a mind of its own. The heat radiating from his toned torso pressed firmly against her bare skin.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as his head dipped, planting an intense, bruising kiss on her collarbone that drew a soft sigh from her lips. She trembled at the sweet sensation and tilted her head to the side to give him more access.
His lips traced a burning path up the column of her throat, raising goosebumps. One hand wrapped firmly around her waist, the other slipping in her hair to hold her in place as his fury bled into raw hunger.
He caught her earlobe lightly between his teeth, ripping a soft moan out of her lips.
"You are perfect, little lamb," he growled against her skin, his voice thick and husky. "The scars change nothing. The moment I saw you that night, I knew you would be mine."
The weight of his words, spoken in that velvety, thick voice, sent a wave of butterflies fluttering through her stomach. She almost let herself believe him, almost succumbed to the idea that someone could actually want her–
Then she remembered Samantha. The name flashed through her mind, snapping her back to her senses. He belonged to another woman.
"I can’t have you," she whispered, attempting to push back from his warmth. "You belong to someone else."
Dorian’s eyes flew open, his pupils shifting dangerously to obsidian. He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He knew she was referring to Samantha.
He was on the verge of telling her that his engagement to Samantha was purely political. He wanted her to know that he was marrying Samantha for a reason, nothing more.
But he didn’t. The weight of his responsibilities felt too heavy to explain. He didn’t know how to express himself without overwhelming her. He didn’t know how to convey his feelings without scaring her away.
He didn’t even understand the violent storm she was stirring in his own chest and his mind. How would he explain something he couldn’t even name yet? It was pure chaos in his mind.
So he did the only thing he could do at that moment. He silenced the chaos.
Gripping her chin, he closed the final inch between them and claimed her mouth in a deep kiss.