Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I pull my soaked top up and over my head and drop it with the pants to deal with later. My underwear are already too wet, and the thin material of the satin exposes everything underneath. I don’t hide. I lift my chin, even if it’s hard to do so.
His eyes travel over me like he’s on holiday with all the time in the world to sightsee. Brandon didn’t ask. He also didn’t expect me to do it, so why do I feel the need to take this a step further just because he challenged me? I’m losing credibility by the second.
I move back into the opening in the V of his legs he’s left me and squirt the conditioner straight on his head. While I rub the liquid into his hair, the heat of his eyes on my body grazes across my skin, becoming impossible to pretend this is normal and part of the job. I shift, accidentally brushing against his hand, but don’t pull away. That little touch shouldn’t be so potent, but it is, causing my breath to catch and me to run out of air before I can replenish. I look straight at him, and our gazes collide with intention and remain locked in a standoff. A little touch turns into his hand sliding along my hip as I caress his head and lower under his ears.
I don’t stop despite the war waging in my head. As I rub my thumb over his jaw, each sharp prick from his scruff commands long dormant parts of my body to awaken. It’s been so long, so long that I’ve been this close to someone. Denying my attraction is futile at this point.
Skin to skin, our gazes remain hooked together in a heated exchange while steam hangs in the air around us. A growing intensity reinforces a connection we shouldn’t be sharing. I know better, but before I can pull away, he reaches up to catch my wrist. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice competing with the sound of the water pummeling the floor behind us.
“It’s . . .” I pinch my eyes closed and try to find a clearer reason to stay, but I know nothing can justify what I’m doing other than purely selfish excuses. Is this so horrible if he wants this as much as I do?
Stop, Autumn, my angel whispers faintly from my shoulder.
I lean into the sparks left in the wake of his fingers as they trail down my outer thigh, shamelessly burning for more. Equally reckless, I remain right where I am, watching his lips part and his tongue dip out to glide over them. “Is this okay?” His deep tone is even more seductive under the circumstances.
I take an urgent breath before weaving my fingers into his hair again. “I think we should rinse you off.”
A wry smile replaces his tongue, and he stands with my wrist still in his hand. Turning me with him, he drops his head back, letting the water cover his head again. Eyes closed. Mouth open. His skin is so tanned from summer as if he spent every day outdoors. My mouth manages to go dry despite the mugginess enveloping us.
Taking a folded washcloth from the built-in shelf, he pumps body wash onto it and rubs it over his chest. With his other hand spreading the soap over his skin, he holds the cloth out for me. I’m presented with the wall of muscles of his backside when he peers back over his shoulder, and asks, “Do you mind washing my back?”
“I . . .” I’m standing there at a fork of knowingly crossing lines or trying to hold on to the last shred of my dignity. He doesn’t make the decision easy. I shake my head and grab the soapy rag. With only the wet fabric between us, I touch the back of his neck, gently working the soap into his skin, in awe at the thick bundle of muscle under my hand. As I drag it slowly down his side, my nipples harden and my breath shallows. He’s hard everywhere, and even the bruises covering his shoulder are framed in exquisite muscle. My core pulses in response, my need growing deep inside me. I swallow hard as a low groan escapes him. “Does this hurt?”
“No. I like it.”
I want to smile, but his response has me so turned on I can't reply. I want him, but my emotions are so twisted I can’t think straight. “I need to leave.” A deep-seated confession of mine as much as it is for his benefit.
I push the door open when his hand wraps around my waist, sending goose bumps across my flesh. “Wait.”
I pause, leaving room for guilt to slip into the space between us, and whisper, “I shouldn’t have—” Stepping out of the shower, I close the fogged glass door behind me.