Chapter 175: The Solitude - Part 3

~ SASHA ~

It took Zev seconds to get the fire lit, and she stood right over him, unwilling to break contact, her breathing still rapid, but calming—until he had the flames roaring. He dragged a massive, metal bath from the wall in the corner to the spot in front of the fire, then he stood, kissing her again, just long enough to get her heart racing, then he groaned and pulled away, grabbing a massive, black cast iron pot from next to the wall and walking it back towards the entrance of the cave.

"Where are you g—" she cut off when he plonked it up against the wall of the cave, where it curved away from the opening, and suddenly the sounds in the cave changed as water began to rush into the massive pot.

That was where the sound of running water came from, she realized. There was a stream of water trickling down the wall from the ceiling, disappearing into some kind of hole at the floor.

As the pot began to fill, Zev hurried back to her, pulling her against his stomach, and combing her hair back from her temples. She'd let it down loose when they got changed back at the house, and now she shivered with the sheer deliciousness of his fingers sliding through it.

"How cold is it?" she asked again, her eyes closed so she could more fully focus on the sensations of his touch.

Chuckling, Zev laid one of his hands on her neck and she shrieked and almost slapped him away. It felt like a block of ice on her skin.

"Okay, okay, we're definitely having that warm bath!" she said, clutching the fur jacket back up to her chin. "Damn that's cold!"

Zev's eyebrows rose suggestively and he prowled towards her, his hands in front of him as if he would grab her.

"Zev, too cold!" she warned.

"Sometimes cold is good!"

"That's too cold though!" she giggled, struggling as his arms snaked around her back—outside the fur jacket, thankfully.

"Ah, but my mouth is warm," he rasped, then kissed her.

Sasha's stomach dipped and she forgot about his cold hands, or the water behind him or… anything, except the warm, firm pressure of his lips on hers, the slide of his tongue, and the thunder of his breath.

She lifted her hands to cling to his neck, pulling him in, heedless of her jacket falling open and baring her skin, just frantic to be close to him.

Zev's growl puttered in his throat and his kiss became more desperate. The jacket fell open on her side, baring her right breast completely, but she just pressed into his chest, rubbing it on the leather of his furs and sighing with pleasure.

"Oh, god, Sash," Zev croaked.

He lifted his head and stared down at her, his eyes going near-black as his pupils dilated.

He had one hand at her lower back, holding her to him as she laid back over his arm, and the other….

With a groan of desire, he raised a trembling hand—a freezing hand—and touched a single finger to the peak of her breast, circling it, his chest vibrating with the sound of his need.

Sasha gasped, but the cold only peaked her nipple so it stood, hard and tall.

Then he lowered his head, opening his mouth on it and Sasha gasped, her hand clapping to the back of his neck, holding him close as he sucked, sending electric jolts of pure pleasure, jagged and sharp, straight to her belly.

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"Zev… oh fuck… Zev…"

He growled, both hands at her back now, his mouth wide over her breast and Sasha twitching with the pleasure of it—then he flicked her nipple with his tongue and she actually shuddered.

He played that way for a full minute, Sasha giving herself over to it, forgetting anything but being close to him, until suddenly he swore and pulled her upright, only making sure she had her feet before he disappeared, leaving her in the center of the room, blinking.

"Zev? What—"

"I need to get the water on the fire," he growled, grabbing the handle of that massive pot and hauling it up, wincing when the effort of the weight obviously hurt his side.

"Don't hurt yourself!" she gasped. But he just stalked across the room, hauling the pot and setting it on a frame in the fireplace obviously made for the task.

When he had it settled and had added more wood to the now merrily crackling fire, he turned again, raking a hand through his hair and his eyes locked on hers.

Something in his gaze was feral and for a moment, her stomach clenched in fear—remembering the wolf inside him, the wolf she'd seen. The death he could bring.

The death she brought, too, she realized. If in a different way.

"Sash?" Zev asked, suddenly uncertain. "What's wrong?"

She blinked and realized she'd broken eye contact. But when she saw him there, his face earnest and open, looking so much like he had five years ago—heavier, thicker, stronger than those days, but still… still the same Zev. Still the patient, giving man she'd always been in love with, Sasha smiled brilliantly.

She was letting go of fear, she decided. Letting go of questions and problems. She was walking into this experience with Zev as open and giving as he was.

She was going to meet him in his own heart, and wallow in it.

As she started across the floor towards him, her smile grew and she shook her head. "Nothing's wrong, Zev. Absolutely nothing. I am just head over heels in love with you and… I can't wait," she whispered as she reached him.

The flames in Zev's eyes flared, crackling just like the fire behind him.

"What are you saying, Sash?"

"I'm saying you're mine, Zev. All of you. And I'm yours."

He nodded. She put her hands to his stomach, letting her thumbs trail over the rise and fall of his abs, following the lines there and shaking her head. "You're pure beauty, Zev. Pure heat. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm never letting go of you, ever again."

"The feeling's mutual," he croaked.

"Then show me where the wash rags are, because I'm not waiting for that fucking massive pot of water to boil. I need you, Zev. I need you."

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