Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
She sank against his long frame and traced the indention between his hip and thigh. Pleasure without the soreness? Orgasms without planning? Never mind all that. The hopeful look in his eyes made her want it more than anything. “Me, too.”
70
The spray of the shower head wasn’t what spiraled heat over Jay’s body. It was Charlee’s hands as they lathered soap across the ruined skin on his back.
He’d never showered with another. Had never even removed his shirt in front of someone other than his doctor, and that had been a very long time ago. “I love your hands on me.”
“How are you really doing with all the touching?” Her tone was soft, careful.
He braced his arms on the tile and let his head drop between them. Suds collected between their feet, hers so small beside his. “The fear is still there. Touch never guaranteed a breakdown, but knowing that it could, I’ve always restricted it.” Like a big pussy. The expectation of panic was worse than the reality. He knew that, just couldn’t move past it.
Her hands lowered to his ass, fingering soap into the cleft. The little devil wasn’t going to leave a single cranny unwashed.
“You told me in New York that talking about your demons was a trigger.” She squatted behind him and raked her nails over the backs of his thighs. “Can we test that?”
Fuck no. He couldn’t talk about the shed or the horror within its thin walls. She had enough nightmares of her own. She didn’t need his.
She wiggled around him, her beautiful face hovering below his and blinking against the deluge of water.
The muffle of slapping guitar beats sifted through the bathroom. She cocked her head. “Why do I hear the song Punk Rock Girl?”
He leaned down and captured her lips with a shower-wet smack. “Because I set your ringtone. Like?”
“Love.” She grinned, and her lips curved down just as quick. “It has to be Nathan. Maybe he has news about the letter.” She slipped out of the stall before he could catch her.
Damn Nathan, the hater. Interrupting his shower time.
He followed the trail of wet footprints out of the bathroom and found her bent over the desk, dripping water on the phone in her hand and tapping on the screen. She held it up, wide-eyed and gorgeous. “How do you work this thing?” Then she returned to her frantic swiping. “I haven’t owned a phone in years.”
Probably not since Noah. Who was she going to call? A twinge pulled his chest. He closed the distance and held out his hand. “Give it here.”
When she stretched it toward him, he grabbed her elbow. “Go dry off properly. Water on marble inspired Bon Jovi to compile Slippery When Wet.”
Her eyebrows climbed then dropped over narrowed eyes. “You’re so full of shit.”
He pinched her ass. “Walk back to the bathroom like I’m not.”
The pound on the door sent him lurching into the closet. He dropped the phone and fought a t-shirt from its hanger. Yeah, so he still didn’t want anyone looking at his back. Motherfucking knee-jerk reaction. He yanked on a pair of workout shorts and didn’t belittle himself too much for it until he skidded out and found her answering the door stark fucking naked. “Charlee!”
She startled and dropped her jaw as if she had no clue why his face was on fire.
Nathan strode around her, and the fucker was lucky he didn’t lower his eyes below her chin.
“Charlee, go put on some clothes.” His voice rattled the glass doors. Fuck it. He spun into the closet and wrestled another t-shirt off the rack.
Back in the bedroom, neither of them had moved. Both stared at him with identical sets to their jaws, likely for different reasons. He tossed her the shirt.
She turned it over in her hands, locating the head hole not near fast enough. “Calm down, Jay. He’s seen—”
“He doesn’t need to see it again.”
The shirt hit him in the face and fell to the floor. Okay, maybe his tone was a little too coarse.
She propped her fists on her hips. “You might remember that next time you fuck me onstage.”
His balls curled up as if they’d been punched, but the real pain throbbed behind his ribs. He scooped up the shirt and pulled it over her head, stretching it over her little fists and down to her thighs.
His memory of the show was muddy, but he realized she’d enjoyed the exhibitionism before the groupies showed up. That realization set his nerves on fire. Jesus. Clear-headed, he never would’ve put her on display. Was that what she wanted? Would this be another sticky point in her closet of kinks? “We’ll talk about this later.”
She pushed her arms through the holes and turned toward Nathan, who was watching their interaction with a blatant scowl. “Nathan? Is this about the letter?”