Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
She stepped inside, letting the spray run down her body. She dragged a hand across the glass to get a good look at Graves. He removed the faerie king top first. It had hidden seams and seemed to simply unravel before dropping to the floor in one long piece.
Her mouth went dry at the sight of him. The tattoo that started at his wrist. A circle of holly vines with their piercing thorns digging into his skin like a living mural of his tortured pain. They snaked up his forearm, across the curve of his bicep, around the bulge of his shoulder, and swept out across his chest. He was broad and muscled and utterly delectable. She wanted to run her tongue along the dips and valleys of his pecs and across every ridge of his abs to the Adonis lines that led down into those inscrutable pants.
She watched her devil release his trousers and drop them to the ground. Her eyes widened. All muscled quads and narrow waist and thick, long cock, hanging heavy between his legs.
“You’re joining me?” she asked, a little breathless.
Her eyes darted down and back up again. Heat was already pooling in her core. She hadn’t thought she had an ounce of adrenaline left in her body, but here she was, ready to drop to her knees again for this man. Monster. God.
Water cascaded down his muscled form as he entered the shower. All sleek skin and utterly inviting torment. She wanted to run her hands down him and feel his smoothness. Take his cock in her hand and slide it home into her where it belonged.
“Soap first,” he said, his voice husky as if he could see the desire in her eyes.
He reached for a bar, lathering a washcloth and then running it carefully across her skin. Every sense was heightened at the feel of his hands on her, cleaning away the night’s excursions. He was cautious of her bullet wound, treating it with tender care, before continuing on. When he was finished, he began to scrub at his own body as she washed off the soap under the spray.
She held out her hand. “Can I?”
He offered the washcloth to her without comment, and then she was running soap down Graves’s chest. Her heart beat a furious tempo as she moved along his legs and up across his arms. He turned for her, letting her marvel at the planes of his back and the tight clench of his ass. God, it was fucking magnificent.
His cock lengthened further at the sweep of her fingers and brush of her palm and the soft notes of pleasure she made at the simple act of getting to touch him. Finally, she had soaped every inch of him, and he stepped into the showerhead, washing away the evidence of her fingers. She eyed the water with barely suppressed jealousy.
“If you keep looking at me like that,” he said, low like a warning.
“Then what?”
“We have to wash your hair.” As if he was physically restraining himself so that he could take care of her.
She didn’t argue. Just turned her back to him and let him lather the dark strands. His hands massaging her scalp were sweet heaven and pure torture.
She moaned. She couldn’t even help it. It felt fucking incredible to have those hands working her over. Fingers that knew the world’s secrets, releasing all of her tensions.
His cock pressed into her ass at the sound. As if he, too, couldn’t help himself. She shivered at the need they both clearly felt crawling up and out of their chests. Like a bird trapped in a cage, beating its wings to be set free.
“Wren,” he ground out.
She hummed at the sound of her name on his tongue as he washed the shampoo out of her hair and went back for conditioner. It smelled like honeysuckle, sweet and pungent, and she couldn’t imagine him using it, but she loved it. Like he’d had it waiting here for her all along.
When the conditioner was finally washed out, she kept her eyes closed, letting the water rain down on her and whisk away the events of the evening.
Graves sucked her nipple into his mouth. She gasped but kept her eyes closed. Let him lead, if he wanted. She’d let him do anything right now. Anything at all.
His fingers replaced his mouth and then his tongue swirled around the other nipple until it peaked. They’d built up and up and up, the need a physical pain hovering between them, as if at any moment they might both explode and lose their minds without the other. She’d held out because of her anger, but it had cooled. And in its place she’d found…a partner.
One who had trusted her in the market and with the plan and with his heart.