Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
She draws her knees up in the bath, hiding herself from me. The movement is protective, but also strangely coy, and it makes something fierce twist inside my chest. Droplets of water slide down her throat in slow, lazy paths, tracing lines I want to follow with my tongue. She’s trying to shield herself, but all it does is make her look even more irresistible. My throat tightens. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to hide. Not from me.
I stop a few steps away, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off the water but far enough that she doesn’t feel cornered. “Are you afraid of me?” I ask, voice low, careful.
She seems to wake up fully then, the fog of sleep clearing from her eyes. She shakes her head quickly, almost defiantly. “No. I’m not. I’m just… startled.”
A long silence stretches between us. The only sounds are the soft drips of water from the faucet, the faint hum of the city far below, and the slow, uneven rhythm of her breathing.
My own heart is pounding so hard I feel it in my fingertips. I tilt my head, watching her carefully, letting the question hang for a beat. “Want some company?”
She looks stunned for a second—lips parting, eyes widening, breath catching audibly. The question lands heavy with possibility, thick in the humid air. Her cheeks flush deeper, the color spreading down her throat, across the tops of her breasts. She swallows, and I watch the movement, mesmerized.
“You can say no,” I add quietly, holding her gaze.
She hesitates. Her breath catches again—sharp, almost pained. Water laps softly against the marble as she shifts, tiny waves rippling outward. Her fingers tighten on the edge of the tub, knuckles whitening. Then she whispers, “Okay.”
The word lands like a spark on dry tinder. Heat surges through me—low, fierce, immediate. My fingers go to the buttons of my shirt. One by one, I undo them. The fabric parts, exposing the hard planes of my chest, the dark trail of hair leading down my abdomen. I shrug it off, letting it drop to the tiled floor. Her gaze flicks down my chest, my stomach, then quickly back to my face.
I take off my shoes, socks, then my hands drop to my belt. The leather whispers as I pull it free. Pants next and I’m left in black briefs that do nothing to hide how fucking hard I am for her.
Her eyes stay on mine the whole time. I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my briefs, and I see her breath quicken and her lips part. The fabric catches for a second on my erection, then pulls away. I’m thick and heavy from the sight of her. I step toward the tub.
There’s a little splash of water as I lift one leg over the edge. Of course I’m too big for it. Way too big. My frame barely fits. My knees are bent awkwardly and water sloshes dangerously close to the rim. I shift, trying to find space, and that’s when I see it: the laughter in her eyes. Real laughter. Bright. Unexpected. Then it spills out of her—soft, genuine, echoing off the marble walls like music.
“Baths were definitely not made for men of my height or stature,” I say.
“No,” she agrees softly.
I grin. “Come over here and,” I invite. “Lean on me.”
I can see the war in her eyes—trust versus caution, desire versus fear. Her fingers tighten on the edge of the tub, then slowly relax. But she does it. Slowly, carefully, she turns and settles back against me.
She settles between my legs, her hips nestling right against me. When her back meets my chest—warm skin slides against warm skin. Sweet smelling bubbles surge around us, suds clinging to her shoulders, her breasts, the curve of her waist. She’s so soft. So breathtaking. The heat of her body sinks into mine instantly, and I let out a low sigh I can’t hold back—half victorious, half pure need.
I feel every inch of her—the delicate curve of her spine pressed to my sternum, her damp hair tickling my collarbone, the faint tremble in her limbs. I’m rock hard now—thick, aching, pressed firmly against the small of her back. The heat of her skin against my cock is pure torture. It’s literally maddening. I wrap one arm around her waist, my palm flat against her stomach, and hold her gently to me. My other hand rests on the edge of the tub, knuckles white from the effort of controlling myself.
Her muscles are tense, and her breath is shallow and quick, like she’s waiting for something bad to happen.
I lower my mouth close to her ear, lips brushing the damp shell, voice barely a whisper against her skin.
“Relax, bella,” I murmur, letting the words vibrate against her, “You never know. You might enjoy it.”