Lorraine's protest dissolved into the steam as Leroy drew her closer, the scent of rose and heat wrapping around her like a spell. The water lapped at her ankles when she stepped in, then at her calves, until she was against him, his body half-submerged but solid, radiating warmth through the veil of rippling gold.
His fingers traced the line of her jaw, then dipped lower, trailing the hollow of her throat. She shivered, not from the chill but from the way his touch lingered there, dangerously close to where her pulse hammered. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet the green fire of his gaze.
"My little Mouseling," Leroy murmured, his voice velvet over steel. "Let's continue where we left off at the throne."
