She wanted to protest, to insist she didn't want a bath, that she only wanted sleep, but Victor kissed her before she could argue. His tongue parted her lips, tasting of mint and something richer, drawing a soft gasp from her throat.
He broke the kiss, resting his chin on her shoulder so his mouth barely brushed her ear. "I don't mind sharing," he whispered, "but I mark what's mine."
His eyes blazed with possessive heat as he pulled her against him. "They must understand," he said, his voice dropping to a growl that vibrated through her bones like the purr of an ancient predator, each syllable gliding across her skin like velvet over raw nerves, "that I claimed you first in every way that matters, every way that makes your pulse race and your breath hitch when you think no one's watching."
His hand slid down, fingers parting her beneath the petal-pink water, insistent, knowing. She arched, gasped, and felt heat blooming through all the exhaustion and soreness.
