He was just about to shut her down, sever their ties, but decided to give her this small piece of himself. “The silver chain with the silver angel wing was my mother’s.” His mother had worn two of them, and she’d given them to him and his sister about a month before she’d died. So you know I’m always with you, and you’re always with each other. “My grandfather gave me the leather one with the silver circle when I first moved away from home.” I don’t know what it means, but I feel like you’re supposed to have it.

Madigan traced the silver circle with her finger, water droplets beading on her beautiful face. “A circle means so many things. Wholeness, unity, evolution. But yours is connected to leather, which is a symbol of power and protection, and those fit you perfectly. Did you know that silver manifests the main Moon principles? Connectivity, reflection, sensuality. I think you’re all those things, too.”

She blinked up at him through her long lashes, her trusting eyes twisting a knife in his chest. She’s been kissed by the moon and sung to by the stars…don’t be actin’ a fool.

He’d already acted a fool, allowing himself to get lost in her, and she was going to get hurt because of it. It took all his willpower to give her one last kiss and take a step back, reaching for the bodywash. He needed to disengage, to wash off the proof of their connection and switch on a colder attitude, but he longed to bathe her, to caress her skin, and cherish her just this once. To treat her how she deserved to be treated.

He poured bodywash into his hand and did just that, taking his time, memorizing the feel of her soft, luscious body, which felt so different from when they were lying down. His hands slid along her hills and valleys, and as he washed away the bubbles, he peppered her freshly cleansed skin with kisses, murmuring, “You’re beautiful, Blue Eyes…so soft and feminine.” She made the sweetest, most appreciative sounds, trailing her fingers through his hair as he worked his way down her body. This was a type of nirvana he’d never known, and he wanted so much more of it, he knew he’d made a mistake. By the time he was done bathing every inch of her, he was hard again. He had a feeling even if he fucked her a million times, he’d still be hungry for more.

“Your hands feel so good,” she said softly. “I’ll wash your hair if you wash mine.”

Fuck. He wanted that more than he wanted his next breath, which was why he refused himself the pleasure.