He walked, naked, into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. He stepped into the cold stream, not bothering to wait for the water to warm, and reached for the soap.

A slender hand took the soap out of his grasp and began to rub it on his back. Bowman faced the tile wall, holding himself up on it with balled fists.

Kenzie slid her soap-slicked hands down his spine, over his buttocks, down his thighs, and along his legs to his ankles. Bowman looked down between his legs to see her concentrating on his calves, scrubbing the soap over them.

“I thought you said I could do that,” he observed.

She shrugged, her hands slick with suds. “Changed my mind.”

Kenzie looked like the best wet dream, with her hair heavy with water, the light streaks in it darkened. Water beaded on her back and trickled from her breasts. She bumped his cock as she worked on his legs, every jolt killing him.

“Kenz.” Bowman’s hand snaked through her hair. “Don’t be a tease.”

Kenzie flashed a hot look up at him. “I thought that’s why you like me.”

No, that’s why I love you. He caressed her wet hair, a shiver of need curling inside him as she slid her hands up to his dark cock.

She soaped it up, every stroke of her fingers making him crazy. He sucked in a breath, his heels coming off the tiled floor, as she washed him all the way to his balls.

Kenzie rinsed her hands, cupped them to gather water, and poured it over his cock. She cleaned him off well, then, before he could help her to her feet, she closed her mouth over him.

A wordless sound came from his throat. Bowman’s hips were moving, thrusting his cock into her before he could master himself.

Kenzie had learned over the years exactly how to take him. How to shape her mouth to give him maximum feeling, to lick under the head where he was especially sensitive, to cup his balls and tickle behind them. Bowman could only stand, his hands in her hair, rocking into her, all thoughts gone. Sensations ruled, blotting out all else.

He had enough presence of mind to haul her upright, lift her against the tiles, and enter her before he came.

Kenzie laughed in delight as Bowman crushed her between himself and the wall as he made love to her. In the early days, when he’d tried to gentle himself for her, she’d urged him on, goading him to master her, to give way to his most basic needs. They’d only grown more beautifully familiar with each other ever since.

Bowman’s seed found home in her, Kenzie slick, tight, and hot. She kissed his face as he dragged in harsh breaths, her own pleasure peaking. She tumbled his hair as the shower’s water poured over them, washing them clean.

“Better than the dream,” Bowman said, kissing her lips, her face, both of them shuddering with release. “I dreamed I was taking you on the kitchen table. This was better.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Kenzie murmured.

Bowman lifted his head. “What?”

“You really came out and did that,” she said, her voice languid. “You were half asleep, but you did it. I told you, I didn’t tranq you that much.”

He stared at her, eyes tightening at the amusement on her face. “I woke up in my clothes.”

“You put them back on. I don’t know why.” She gave him a lazy smile. “Then you hauled yourself into the bedroom, fell facedown on the bed, and started snoring away.”

“So it was real?”

“Yes.” Her eyes darkened. “I haven’t decided whether that or this was better.”

“Kenzie, you little . . .”

She laughed, which moved her sleek and warm body against his. She laughed even more when Bowman snapped off the water, carried her swiftly back to the bedroom, and landed, dripping wet, with her on the bed.

The third time that night proved to be best of all.

* * *

When Kenzie opened her eyes again in the darkness, Bowman was gone. She dimly remembered him waking, pulling her close to kiss her face, neck, shoulder, before he slid from the bed and dressed. He had things to do; she understood that.

As she drowsed, her cell phone rang on the nightstand. She grabbed it, always worried about Ryan, though she knew her grandmother took good care of him. “Yeah?”

“Kenz?” Not Afina but Pierce, the Guardian. Kenzie let out a breath of relief. “Sorry,” Pierce said. “Were you asleep?”

Kenzie ran a hand through her hair, still damp from the impromptu shower. “Doesn’t matter. I need to haul my ass out of bed anyway. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Or . . . Maybe something. I think I found that Gil guy. Can you come over? Easier if I show you.”

“Sure.” Kenzie swung her legs over the edge of the bed, coming fully alert. “I’ll be right there.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Kenzie strode to Pierce’s in record time. On the way, she called her grandmother to make sure Ryan was all right, and was reassured. She heard Ryan in the background saying, “Is that my mom again?”

“Kiss him good night for me,” Kenzie said. “And give him my love.”

“Take care of yourself, Kenzie,” Afina said in her commanding tone, and she hung up.

Pierce was waiting for her. He ushered her into the house and shut the door against the chill of the night. Pierce was a definite bachelor, with the cluttered house to prove it. His abode was tiny, housing only himself, which was unusual, but Guardians were often treated differently from other Shifters.

“I went back over what you told me about Gil Ramirez and tried to match it to anyone with his description,” Pierce said, leading her to the corner where his computer was set up on a desk piled with papers, wires, router boxes, switches, and other bits of electronics Kenzie couldn’t identify.

“Like I said before, I didn’t find anyone who fit,” Pierce went on. “Then I had the idea of going back a few years, looking for his father or other family, or something. And I found him. Gil, I mean. The same guy, same name, different town.”

“Good,” Kenzie said, sitting down on the chair she’d occupied to watch Pierce’s first attempt to locate Gil. “Where’s he really from? Do you have an address, so I can go pound his face?”

“There’s a catch,” Pierce said, tapping keys. The screen split into several segments, rapidly opening photos and documents. “The guy I found lived in a little town called Fayboro, but a hundred years ago.”