My heart and my brain are out of sync.
What’s more, I’m not accustomed to my heart playing any kind of part in any decision I make, save for those regarding the protection of my sister.
I’ll have to puzzle this out later. Time is short, and I’ve got a Commission meeting to attend. Still, might as well have a little fun finding out.
I pull my t-shirt over my head, then follow with my shoes, socks, pants, and boxer briefs.
Two can play this little game. Let’s see how Leanna reacts when I call her bluff.
I step into the steam-filled shower. Heat clings to my skin, mixing with the faint scent of her hair, damp and glossy down her back.
Leanna faces me, expression carefully blank, but nothing escapes me.
The slight rise and fall of her chest, the hardening of her nipples, the faint blush creeping from her collarbone to her cheeks… every subtle sign of arousal sends a jolt through me.
It takes everything I have in me to keep my hands off of her.
“Did I invite you in here?” she asks, voice low, teasing, almost daring me.
“Mmm,” I hum, letting my gaze linger. “Depends on what you consider an invitation. An open door is usually fair game.”
Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t give in. “Well, I suppose there’s room for two. I’m letting you in… just saving us both a fight we won’t have time for today.”
I grin. “Clever. But you know, I don’t lose easily.”
She shoots me a defiant glare, but full of heat. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
She grabs a washcloth and runs it under water before pumping body wash onto it. She washes herself, then, rubbing the fabric deliberately over those glorious breasts, down that flat stomach, between those shapely legs.
I want to groan, want to grab that cloth, and offer my assistance.
“I could wash you,” I murmur, letting my voice drop lower, raspier. “With my tongue.”
She bites her lip, glancing away, pretending to be composed. But the way she shifts under my gaze tells me everything.
I step closer, letting my broad frame brush hers. Fingers graze the soap selection behind her, tauntingly pressing into the space between us. My lipsaccidentallyfind her ear, and she lets out the smallest gasp that makes my cock respond immediately, hard and needy.
She’s inexperienced, I can tell, unsure of her power but trying anyway. She’s testing me, testing herself.
And it’s fucking wild.
I lather my body slowly, calculatedly, making sure she sees every stroke, every curve, every taut line of muscle. My hands trace over my chest, down my abs, lingering over the hardness between my legs.
Her eyes darken with need, that bottom lip caught in a way that tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
I make no effort to hide it. I’m hard, aching, and exposed, and she can see it all. She knows I have control, knows I decide when, and if, I’ll give in.
But that control doesn’t make me want her any less. In fact, it exacerbates the situation. I want her, and I don’t hide it.
Her body is perfection; how could I not be hungry for her?
Her skin is silky smooth. Her curves are in all the right places. I know this body like a roadmap by now; I’d know it blindfolded.
“Want to take over?” I ask, teasing, my accent thicker the more aroused I get. I look down at my cock and lift an eyebrow.
She scoffs. “No.” Yet her hand drifts to the soft, wet heat between her legs, pressing lightly, teasing, the tiniest brush of her fingers making it clear how much she’s aching. She squeezes her thighs together, just enough to torture herself—and me.
“Suit yourself,” I murmur, but my voice betrays the tension building inside me.
