Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I snag a thick black towel from the shelf, snap it open, and drape it over her shoulders. She grabs the edges, pulling it snug across her chest as one last shiver racks her.
“Do you want to take a shower f—” I stop, clear my throat. The word first dies on my tongue. “—uh, a hot one. You’re freezing.”
She ducks her head a little, a quick, shy smile tugging at her lips before she glances up through her lashes. “Only if you’re joining me.”
“Planning to.” I brush my thumb over her cheek. “But I like the invitation.”
Towel clutched one-handed, she wriggles out of her jeans, kicking them aside in a tangle.
I crank the faucet, steam billowing up to cloud the mirror. Pulling the curtain back with a metallic scrape, I nod toward the spray. “You first.”
She seems shy tonight. As she edges closer to the shower, I turn away, giving her an illusion of privacy. The towel hits my shoulder, and I grab it before it falls on the floor. She steps under the cascade and lets out a sigh that travels straight to my groin. Water slicks her skin, carving paths down her back as she tilts her head, face toward the spray, eyes closed against the heat.
I’m showering with Emery.
I shed the rest of my clothes fast, the tile cold under my feet. The curtain rasps shut behind me, sealing us in a haze of steam and pounding water. Her back’s still to me but she glances over her shoulder, a teasing smile playing over her lips.
I close the gap between us and settle my hands on her hips.
She leans into me, her head falling against my chest.
“Warmer?” I ask, sliding one hand up her side, splaying my fingers over her ribs. The green shimmering on her wrist catches my eye, and a shadow of guilt falls over me. Would she be here right now without the mark?
“Much.” She sighs and leans more of her weight on me. She tips her head back, eyes watching me, and raises one hand, trailing a finger over my cheek. “I hope I don’t regret telling you that I’ve been thinking about some version of this since we met.”
I guess that answers my question. Her words chase any doubts back into the shadows. Even if this has no chance of going anywhere, at least whatever we have will be real. She’s choosing to be here with me. My pulse kicks up, heat flooding through me despite the cooling spray. But beneath my excitement, the rusty edge of anxiety grazes me. She’ll be the first in…longer than I want to calculate. And I didn’t have certain…things the last time I was with someone. I guess I’ll find out just how curious my little crow really is.
Eager to see her wide, surprised eyes, I grab the soap, lather it between my palms, and start low on her stomach, circling slowly. Her abs relax under the pressure, a low hum vibrating in her throat. I slide higher, over her ribs, cupping her breasts—thumbs brushing the peaks until her breath hitches.
She shuts her eyes, water clinging to her lashes like dew, lips parting on a sigh.
The thread holding me back frays. I spin her around, pressing her to the tile. Her gasp echoes off the walls as I take her mouth. Chocolate lingers on her tongue, faint and sweet, mingling with the rush of water sluicing between us.
She pulls back first, her breaths quick and shallow, eyes locked on mine with a seriousness that pins me in place. “I need more.”
“So do I.” I trail my mouth down her neck, tongue catching the tang of salt from her skin.
She runs her fingers through my hair, the slight scraping sensation sending needles of pleasure all over my body. I drop to my knees, the wet tile biting into them as I hook one of her legs over my shoulder.
She squeals with surprise and laughs, steadying herself against the wall with one hand and her other in my hair. I press forward, tongue delving, tasting her like a starved man.
A moan tears from her throat, raw and echoing around us. Her thigh trembles against my cheek. The green mark around her wrist flickers brighter as if it’s catching up to her racing pulse.
“Don’t stop,” she pleads, tightening her fist in my hair.
“Wasn’t planning to.” I swipe my tongue over her center. “Don’t interrupt me.”
Her soft laughter morphs into a satisfied hiss of pleasure.
“Be as loud as you want,” I say. “I own the whole building.”
“Stop stopping,” she scolds in a shaky voice.
Laughing, I bury my face against her, tongue licking, lips sucking. All of my attention narrows down to her movements and sounds. The arch of her hips, the way she grinds herself against my face, the sweet panting and moaning noises. Discovering all the ways Emery responds to my hands and mouth.