Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Stop fighting me.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order.
She stopped and collapsed back in my grip. Not because she was willingly obeying me. She would never fucking obey.
That was fine, because her body would always tell me what I needed to know. Right now, it was too weak to stand on its own, and more than that, she wanted to be in my arms.
Zoya wanted to be taken care of.
Even if she would rather die than admit it.
Gently, I set her down on her feet, directly under the hot water, back facing me. She swayed, and before she could topple over, I put my hands on her hips and held her steady.
I shifted one hand to her waist, the other cupping a shoulder to anchor her and let the hot water cover her body. It ran a rusty brown over her skin and down the drain.
For the first time since she woke up, her body trusted me before her mind did. She didn’t pull away; she didn’t knock my hands away. Zoya accepted my help, and some primal part of me deep down inside purred with satisfaction.
I wondered if she knew how unwise that was.
I threaded my fingers through her hair, careful with the bandage but not with the pressure. She liked my hands on her, even if she pretended otherwise. She leaned into me like it was instinct. Like she already knew who she belonged to.
Her breathing changed. What were once deep, even breaths came out in short, sharp inhales.
As I worked the shampoo through her beautiful blonde hair, she relaxed. Her hand reached out, pressing against the cold tiles, but she didn’t move away from me.
She melted back into me. Letting me wash her hair, massage her scalp, and I watched over her shoulder as her nipples hardened even more, her eyes sliding closed, her lips parting.
Would she moan like that when I had my mouth on her cunt, drinking down every whimper she swore she’d never make?
Would her breath stutter like this when I filled her so deep, she couldn’t think? Fuck, I needed to know.
Would her tits rise on every one of her short, shallow breaths like that when I ate her pussy?
I bet they would.
My untouched virgin warrior was enjoying this, and if I reached down and petted that tight cunt, there was no doubt in my mind I would find her ready for me.
Soon, maybe I’d give her what she wanted.
But right now, I needed to give her what she needed.
I was careful, methodical as I scrubbed her hair, and then tipped her head back under the rainfall showerhead to rinse all the shampoo from her now clean blonde locks. Never letting a single sud touch her bandage or get near her eyes.
The entire time, Zoya didn’t move. She didn’t flinch; she accepted my touch.
For the first time since I’d met this woman, she was perfectly still. She wasn’t plotting or calculating. She wasn’t fighting me or anyone else.
Zoya had given in to the moment of peace.
At least she did while I was washing her hair. When my hand moved from her scalp down to her body, running the soap over her skin, skimming the curve of her back to the dip of her waist, her breathing changed again.
Faster. Shallower.
I watched her every reaction, cataloged every tiny movement.
Every time her breath hitched, making her breasts quiver. Every time her skin tightened under my touch. Every single flutter of her eyelashes or parting of her lips, I watched, fascinated.
Her hands clenched at her sides, opening and closing, needing to do something to find a way to respond.
There was a storm brewing inside of her, just beneath the surface, but she wasn’t letting it break.
I wanted it to break.
My hands caressed her body again, my thumbs flicking over her tightened little buds, but she said nothing. She did nothing.
I left my hands at her waist for a moment, lingering there, waiting for her to push me away, to tell me to stop. Instead, she leaned more fully into me. The connection where her back pressed against my chest felt alive. Like every single place we touched had new nerve endings that just became active.
I didn’t realize I was touch-starved until I had her in my arms.
Then she moved, not breaking contact, but turning in my arms so she could look up at me.
It was a fucking mistake.
Our bodies aligned too perfectly.
Her chest pressed against mine. Our breaths mingled in the steam.
Her chin lifted. Her beautiful green eyes still blazing.
If she was smart, Zoya would push me away. She should tell me to never touch her again and then storm out of the shower.
She didn’t.
She surged forward, lifting onto her tiptoes and crashed her mouth to mine, the kiss violent, desperate.
I wrapped my arms around her tighter, spinning us around so I could press her into the shower wall.