Loving the Forbidden Prince

AYLETH

Etan stared down at her, his eyes dark and intense, but his lips curled into a small smile. His chin and jaw were dark, shadowed, beginning to bristle since he hadn't shaved for two days, and the shadows made his green eyes look even brighter.

"Hold on," he said, his voice low, his chest vibrating against hers. Ayleth locked her arms around his neck and pressed into him, loving the shocking difference of the heat where their skins met against the chill of the water pulling against her everywhere else.

He'd sagged into the water, sitting, his weight still on his feet, but mostly buoyed by the water. She sat in his lap, her legs around his waist, the water reaching almost to her shoulders, but only to his ribs.

When he was certain she had a solid grip on him, he let go of her and began to lather up the soap.

Ayleth was a woman who had grown up in privilege. She'd trained with soldiers, and had to travel, she knew life could be… uncomfortable. But most of her days were marked by softness, quality, and attendance.

Yet, what followed was, to Ayleth, the height of luxury.

Hands slick and lathered, Etan began to stroke her body, from her neck, to her shoulders, down over her breasts, even lifting them to run his thick fingers underneath while his thumbs teased her nipples, then down her arms, lathering and stroking, lathering her skin with his strong hands, until she felt as if he was painting her.

His breath came faster as he trailed his hands down, to use the bar of soap under the water, gliding over her stomach, her back, her buttocks, and legs. He left no curve unexplored, no fold of skin untouched. Then he returned to her chest, her shoulders and arms as if he had to be certain he'd truly cleansed her.

He leaned in to kiss her gently, his hands slowly stroking her cheeks, his thumbs tracing her jaw, slick with soap. Then he gripped the back of her neck, bobbed them up once, then pulled her under the surface to rinse.

When they broke back through the surface, Ayleth's mouth was open in a gasp from the cold, but Etan only kissed her once, slow and languid, then straightened and plunged his hands into her hair.

Slowly, so meticulously, he lathered his hands and her hair, twisting and bunching it, his strong fingers massaging her scalp, and pulling through the strands to make sure they didn't tangle.

He made a small, deep noise in his throat, half-hum, half-growl, then his eyes latched on hers.

"Your hair is truly beautiful, Ayleth," he rasped, then let his gaze drift to it as he ran his fingers through it. "I love to look at it, even when we're just riding or walking… when the sun hits it, it almost seems to fracture. It casts a dozen different colors—did you know that?"

She shook her head, stunned by his observation—the same that she had made about his, though she doubted the colors were the same. Etan's hair seemed to embrace the sunlight, suck it in until it made his hair glow with strange highlights in blue and red.

Then Etan murmured to her to keep her ankles locked at his back, and as he fisted her hair, he tugged her head back, encouraging her to let go of his shoulders, to float. He began to massage her scalp again, his strong fingers offering the most delicious sensation that seemed to suck tension and anger from her rigid body, and replace them with love. And heat.

A whole new set of goosebumps rose on her skin, these prickled by the feeling of his fingers, his thick waist between her legs.

Digging her heels into his back she rubbed herself against him, and Etan swore, but his eyes flashed and he placed one of those hands flat, at her lower back.

"Just relax, Ayleth. I have you. Let yourself relax."

So she did, letting herself sink back into the water and float so that her ears were half-plugged and her heartbeat—speeding up—thrubbed in her ears.

*****

ETAN

As the water crept around Ayleth's head and her hair began to rinse, she was laid out before him like a banquet. It was all he could not to take her on the spot. But he wanted this to last. So with his hand still at her lower back to keep her from sinking, he leaned forward.

Ayleth's body was in the water, but her breasts peaked above it, the water rippling over her nipples every time they moved.

Unable to resist, he leaned forward and took one in his mouth, suckling like a babe, though Ayleth's cry was not as a mother to a child. Her fingers dug into his scalp and she arched, keeping him there.

As they bobbed in the water, the trickle and wash of it sliding over her skin and nipples, adding to the visual that stole his breath. Her skin was all pink and peach and pale, contrasting with the dark riverbed under the water, and even his own, darker skin.

Groaning with desire for her he took her nipple in his mouth again, laving it with his tongue, sucking and tasting her clean skin as she arched and whimpered. Then she tilted her hips, and pulling him in with her heels, rubbed herself against him.

Etan shuddered with desire, a coarse curse breaking from him so he came off her breast. But then he took it again, mouth wider, sucking harder, his hips beginning to roll to meet her as the heat within them both began to sparkle and glitter, promising more. So much more.

Then Ayleth arched again, moaning his name and reaching for him between them. He had only a moment to decide—she wanted him, was preparing to join them. But he hadn't washed yet and…

With a low, approving growl, he sucked in and away from her hand, chuckling.

"Not yet, my love," he whispered his voice hoarse with desire for her. "Not yet. But in a moment. I have to get clean first."

Her head popped up then, the water tinkling down behind her and her eyes sparkled.

"I can help with that!"