Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I work the soap over his chest, my fingers gliding along the curve of each muscle and down the ridges of his abdomen. His body is a map I never planned to memorize, but now, I don’t think I could forget it if I tried.
I shouldn’t be enjoying this.
But, God… how could I not?
The man is spectacular.
Not just because of how he looks, but because this is Steele.
The one who’s always been there.
And now he’s standing naked in front of me, muscles tight, composure slipping, while I touch him. My heart stutters as my hands drift lower, following the deep cut of his hips, dangerously close to the part of him I absolutely should not be thinking about.
The moment my fingertips graze the edge of that line, reality slams into me.
I jerk my hands back like I’ve touched a live wire, stumbling a step before catching myself on the slick tile.
Steele’s eyes flicker open, his pupils blown wide, jaw clenched like he’s barely keeping himself in check.
My heart pounds. I need to get out of here before we cross a line we can’t come back from.
I clear my throat, already backing away until my shoulder blades press against the cool glass of the shower door. The contact startles me. It’s too cold compared to the heat gathered inside me.
“We should finish up,” I blurt. “You need to rest.”
For a second, he doesn’t respond. He just stares at me like he’s trying to read the thoughts circling through my head.
Then his gaze drops for a fraction of a second, and I know he sees everything. The way my soaked bra clings to me. The curve of my hips beneath drenched lace. The fact that I’m barely keeping it together.
He exhales slowly, nostrils flaring, like he’s trying to cool the fire between us. “Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”
Even as he turns slightly, giving me space, I can still feel the heat of his body.
I can still feel him.
Instead of waiting, I step out of the shower and snatch the nearest towel from the rack, wrapping it tightly around myself.
I need the space.
The cool air.
The way I feel right now isn’t how I should be feeling about Steele.
I clutch the towel tighter, like it can shield me from the chaos unraveling inside me. My hands tremble as I grab another towel.
Steele steps out of the steam a second later, water dripping from every inch of his perfectly sculpted frame. His hair is wet and messy, his skin flushed from the heat. My gaze flicks upward, only to find him already watching me.
His gray eyes are locked on mine, intense and unreadable. There’s something dark in them that crackles between us like static.
Neither of us says a word as the air remains thick.
Almost suffocating.
“Turn around,” I whisper, trying and failing to steady my voice.
His eyes spark before he obeys, rotating so his back is to me. The second his gaze disappears, I try to pull myself together.
One second.
Two.
Get it together, Lilah.
I step closer and press the towel to his shoulders.
His muscles jump beneath my touch.
With deliberate movements, I blot away the water clinging to his skin. Everything about Steele is hard and defined. It doesn’t take long for me to get lost in the flesh beneath my fingertips. The anxiety filling me gradually ebbs, and I forget about everything except the moment unfolding between us.
Steele remains motionless as the towel glides over his skin. Silence lingers between us as I move from one shoulder blade to the other, sliding along his bulging biceps, and muscular forearms before sweeping across the broad expanse of his back. Every defined muscle and sculpted line are evidence of his unwavering discipline. I’ve never known anyone who takes better care of their body than Steele.
Need flares to life in my core. It’s a steady, thumping beat I can’t help but be aware of.
I’ve seen him shirtless more times than I can count, but this feels different. Like I’m touching him for the first time.
No, not just touching him.
Really feeling him.
My hand falters as I trail the towel down the broad plane of his back. My gaze catches on a droplet of water that slides down his spine. Despite the temptation to lean forward and lick it away, I force myself to stay in control. Steele shifts beneath my touch, as if he can sense every heated impulse racing through my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut and push it away.
This is Steele.
My Steele.
And yet, my body doesn’t seem to care.
Need pulses through me in a low, steady rhythm that’s impossible to ignore. It coils in my belly, a throb of awareness that makes it hard to focus.
Steele shifts again, a flicker of tension rippling through him, as if he feels it too.
He doesn’t say a word.
With every pass of the towel, I inch my way downward. It doesn’t take long before I’m at his lower back, dangerously close to his ass. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to trace over the tight curve of him without the towel between us.