“Hush,” he whispers.
We take turns toweling off, and then he grabs my hand, leading me through the back door. The house is silent and dark as we hurry through it, practically tiptoeing past the great room, careful not to wake the sleeping kids.
Straight to his room.
No question.
Unlike mine, there’s a bathroom attached, and he takes me inside, perching me on the sink as he shoves off his trunks.
He flicks the bright light on, and it shocks me so much that I spend a few seconds blinking at him.
Here, I see the tiger again, this apex hunter with dizzying green eyes.
His pupils narrow, then dilate again.
His dark hair hangs in damp snatches, fiendishly messy from dragging my hands through it.
He only has the one tattoo on his arm, and the rest of his skin is the same honed muscle built to destroy a woman’s sanity.
He has abs for miles.
A freaking V of pure honed muscle pointing to his large erection like he’s the reigning king of sex.
Not fair.
It isn’t right that there are men who can make you very stupid, very fast, and leave you very heartbroken the next day. All because they’re model gods.
And he’s staring at me with his dark, drugged eyes, his breath ragged as he takes me in.
“I wasn’t done with you.” I wrap my legs around him, dragging him closer before I take him in my hand again.
His cock twitches, and he exhales sharply, resting his forehead on mine.
“Go fucking slow. I’m not popping off like champagne.”
“Isn’t that the point?” I smirk.
“Wasn’t planning on coming in your hand.” He reaches for me, pushing aside the soaked material between my legs. “Your wet pussy says you agree. I’m not wasting your hot little cunt when it’s dripping to be ravaged.”
No freaking argument here.
Just his fingers, stroking slow, hypnotic circles around my clit, edging me until my breath hitches.
Grinding on him earlier felt good, but this is something else entirely.
I wipe the bead of moisture at the slit of his cock and he groans raggedly.
His fingers don’t slow—if anything, they work faster.
My core clenches.
If it’s a competition, I don’t know who’ll win.
I’m not sure I want to.
“Kane,” I whisper.
“Yeah?” When I don’t reply, he groans. “Say my name again. Just like that.”
