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He crossed the tiled floor until he stood right in front of her and cupped her cheek. “Let me take care of you, chérie. Let me give you a brief reprieve from your fears, your pain.”

Grace closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. To give in to this, to him, to get lost in his arms and forget what had brought her here, if only for a moment, was so, so tempting. It had her teetering on the edge.

His lips brushed against hers, a fleeting touch. Soft, a taste. She reached for more, but he was gone.

He dropped his hand and stepped away from her. “Take off your clothes.”

“Bossy,” she said, making a last-ditch effort to lighten the mood. To ease out of the situation.

“You know it.”

She swallowed. His gaze wouldn’t release her. Not for a second, not even for her to glance at the door. It was locked, but she could unlock it. She could leave. Retreat from this room, this suite, this wing of the house. Return to the room Nathalie had set aside for her this morning. The one without the decadent bath of bubbles and rose petals, and the tools of Alain’s kink laid out on the bed. Without Alain.

No. She wanted what he was offering. The moment of reprieve he was promising, to wipe away the fear that’d built with every word she’d read in that horrid grimoire. To get lost in his touch and let him take charge. If only for tonight.

She sucked in a deep breath, exhaled long and slow then, with trembling hands, she reached for the hem of her shirt. Goosebumps rippled across her skin as she pulled it over her head. She’d been naked before him last night, but it’d been dark and she’d been blind to his expression, and caught up in the passion of the moment. In the soft light of the bathroom, under his watchful eyes, this was different.

She slipped off her flip-flops and shimmied out of her sweats. They joined her T-shirt on the floor. With each item of clothing she removed, she was surrendering control. To him. Accepting his lead. It was terrifying, and yet the weight on her mind was a little less heavy, her concerns a little less sharp.

Grace closed her eyes tight. If she had to look at him while she did this, she’d lose her nerve. She eased the sports bra over her head. Her nipples beaded, her breasts became heavy. Was he looking at her? Did he like what he saw? She fluttered her hands across her stomach, fighting the urge to cover herself. Could she do this? She heaved in another deep breath. He groaned, a sound that washed over her, set her pulse racing and her breath ragged.

Before she could change her mind, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and dragged them over her hips, down her thighs and free of her feet. She stood, her hands by her sides, trembling.

“Open your eyes, Grace.”

She clenched her thighs together, hesitated, then opened her eyes, dragging her gaze up his body, over… Her breath hitched at the sight of him, ruddy and engorged. She forced her gaze up, fixing it on the shadow of a beard on his chin.

“Look me in the eye.”

Her stomach quivered, and a pulse thumped away in her clit. With considerable effort, she did as he asked. Her knees shook. His eyes were almost black, and they swallowed her whole.

He jerked his head at the tub, his face taut, his body tense, as if it were taking everything he had not to pounce on her. “Hop in the bath.”

Released from his intense focus, she scurried into the bath, slipping into its warmth and hiding her body beneath the soap suds. She had a brief respite, then he was there, his hand on her shoulder. The tension in her body ratcheted through the stratosphere from that simple touch. To have his hands on her, to come apart beneath them again, was an imperative now.

“Slide forward.”

She did as he commanded, and he stepped into the bath behind her, thrusting his muscular legs on either side of her and pulling her into the V of his body, flush to… Grace couldn’t hold back her gasp. He was hot and hard, a steel bar pressing into her back.

“Relax, chérie. Put your head on my shoulder.”

She leaned back, every sense attuned to him. To the warmth, the solidness of his body, the slickness of his wet skin, the solace of his arms wrapped around her.

“Close your eyes.”

Anticipation thrumming through her veins, she did what he asked and gave herself over to Alain’s touch.

She slayed him. Her capitulation, her willingness, no matter how far out of her comfort zone this was, to follow his commands. Never had a woman’s submission gripped him by the balls so tight. She’d given herself over to him. Trusted him to take care of her, and it sucker punched him in the chest. Awed him with the honor she’d bestowed on him. He would give his all to ensure she didn’t regret it.

He grabbed the washcloth and ran it in slow, gentle strokes down one arm, then the other. Across her shoulders, massaging the tension and the knots in her neck as he went. She mumbled her enjoyment. Below the water, he washed her stomach, up under the curve of her breast, then down over the top of her thigh. Back to her shoulders again, over her throat, down between her breasts, back up her arm, washing her down as if he might wash all her cares away with lavender and rose, with bubbles and a soothing touch.

He’d never had a bath in his apartment in Paris. He didn’t have a bed in his cottage, but as he washed her down, he made plans to change all that. To add a bath as big, or bigger than this. And, Fates willing, he would have her in it with him, like this, every evening. He could sit here all night doing this, running the cloth over her beautiful skin, worshiping her body, but she needed more than soothing. She needed release. He didn’t need his wolf senses to read the signs of her body. The tightness of her shoulders. The way she shifted against him, as if she couldn’t quite settle.

He set the wash cloth aside and cupped her breast, thumbing her nipple, then rolling it between his forefinger and thumb. Her head dropped back on his shoulder. That’s my girl. His other hand, he slid down her body. Down, down until his fingers found what he was searching for. No games this time. Not yet.

He rubbed circles on her clit, listening for the race of her pulse, the catch in her breath, finding the rhythm that had her muscles straining, her hips rolling. He thrust his own hips, rubbing his cock in the cleft of her delectable ass.

“Alain!”