“Of course.” He obeyed swiftly, and not just because he feared Baden’s reaction. Fox had told her about saving him from a horde of vampires years before—vampires!—and how he’d been completely devoted to her ever since, serving her and her guests to the best of his ability.

Katarina untied the belt at her waist, Baden going still with sublime attentiveness, as if she were the only other person on the planet; he didn’t even seem to be breathing. She shrugged out of the robe, the material pooling at her feet, every inch of her suddenly revealed.

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she allowed him to look his fill. She wasn’t shy. Why pretend?

He gripped the arms of the chair. “You are...”

Cool air teased her distended nipples while the heat of his gaze dampened her core. She traced a fingertip from sternum to navel then turned, presenting her ass. “I am?”

“Katarina.” A husky plea. “You are exquisite. My every fantasy made flesh.”

Oh, the things he says, the things he makes me feel! “And this is only the beginning...” she said, forgetting for a moment that they had an audience. She climbed onto the table and covered her lower half with the blanket. “I’m ready.”

Thomas rifled through the oils, selecting the one he wanted before discarding the others.

“Let me know if I press too firmly or lightly,” he said, rubbing the oil over his hands. The scent of lavender wafted from him as he reached for her.

When a growl parted Baden’s lips, Thomas hesitated.

“Baden,” she said. “Behave or this stops.”

He quieted straightaway.

Well, well. He didn’t like another man handling her, but he sure did enjoy the show.

Thomas got to work, digging his fingers into the sore muscles in her back. She hadn’t lied to Baden. Vigorous activities had left her sore. Besides, hanging out with immortals could be stressful.

His scrutiny of her face intensified with every new touch. Judging her expressions?

“Harder,” she said, and Thomas complied, drawing a moan from her. Her attention remained fixed on Baden, whose features were stark with desire, blistering sensuality and simmering jealousy.

He had a hard-on the size of a battering ram, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. His muscles were clearly knotted; he needed a massage of his own.

Must get my hands on him. Soon...

One minute bled into another. His tension skyrocketed to new high after new high, making the air ever thicker. She thought she would have to swim to reach him.

Drowning...

She imagined the hands on her belonged to Baden...stroking her skin...and it wasn’t long before she was so desperately aroused she was mewling.

“Leave us,” Baden barked. “Now. For your own safety, never return.”

Thomas didn’t bother gathering his supplies. He darted to the door. The exit sealed shut with a soft snick.

Katarina didn’t wait for an order—Baden wasn’t in charge today—but stood to shaky legs. “I’m going to assume your rudeness stems from your own soreness and that you need a turn on the table. Come.”

“No. You come.” He crooked his finger at her, and she knew what he had planned. A repeat of what they’d done before. At least to kick things off. And she was tempted, so very very tempted.

Having his gloved fingers inside her had been good, but she wanted great.

Eye on the prize. Give me skin-to-skin or give me nothing.

“No, pekný. I’m staying right here. But you...you’re taking off your clothes and climbing onto the table. The sooner you do, the sooner I get my hands on you.”

His pupils flared with a new infusion of lust. “You’re going to touch me?”

“Oh, yes. The pain might very well be temporary. A sensitivity you developed as a spirit unable to make contact with another. If so, we’ll desensitize you. You can already withstand more than before, yes?”

“Yes.” The longing he projected...but still he hesitated. “I’ve wanted this, imagined it. I shouldn’t risk harming you with my strength. I shouldn’t relax my guard, allowing myself to be vulnerable...”

“But...”

“But I will trust myself to be gentle. And I will trust you not to betray me. Because I need you more than I’ve ever needed anything. Even a second life.”

As his words rocked her, he stood. The sheer sensuality of the movement made her ache a thousand times worse. A flash-fever in her veins.

He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a wide chest packed with muscle and sinew, bronzed skin she would forever drool over, and the butterfly tattoo she hoped to trace with her tongue.