I set down the glass and scoop up the sponge, squeezing the excess water out and grabbing a bottle from the basket at the foot of the tub.
“Do you like this one?” I flip the lid and hold it under her nose.
“I like them all. That’s why I bought them.”
“You’re never going to give me an inch again, are you?” I squeeze a dollop of soap on the sponge. It smells like honey and vanilla.
“Why should I? This isn’t a relationship.”
“What is it then?” I begin to soap up her back. Her body is tense as hell, but she doesn’t move to stop me. My fingers itch to stroke her skin. She’s so soft. It’s been so long.
“It’s a transaction. You’re the one who said so.” She thinks for a few seconds. “You’re the one who decided that.”
“What if I wanted this to be something else?”
“Too late.”
We’re both speaking quietly, almost whispering. I didn’t take the time to roll up my sleeves, only pushing them up as far as they’d go, so my cuffs are wet. I’m kneeling on the floor, bending forward, gently washing her, careful not to brush the crack of her ass or the side of her tits.
My entire body is wired, every nerve on alert, like I’vegot hundreds of millions riding on this trade. I dab the sponge against the nape of her neck. She shivers. Her neck is beautiful. It curves like a swan.
“Not too late,” I say, and yet again, without weighing the risk and reward, I act, letting the sponge fall. It hits the water with a soft plop. Cora twists her head to look at me, blinking in surprise.
I hold my breath and kiss her.
She whimpers into my mouth, like she’s in pain, like she’s hurt.
Like I hurt her.
My pulse spikes. I cup her face, rising on my knees, kissing her harder, demanding and desperate, like she’s going to be torn from my arms at any second, forever, and I’m powerless and at fault and terrified.
She tastes like wine and salt, from sweat or tears, I don’t know.
“Adrian,” she gasps when I’m forced to take a breath.
“Don’t think,” I order—or maybe plead—kissing her again, cupping her neck and pressing her as close as I can with the wall of the tub between us. Her wet breasts press against my chest. The marble edge digs into my abs as I bend over, gathering her up, starving for the smell and feel of her.
She moans, her hands scrabbling at my back, tugging at the back of my shirt to free it from my pants. I let go of her with one hand to unbuckle my belt, and she kisses me back for real, sliding her sweet, slippery tongue into my mouth the way she knows drives me crazy.
Exultation swells inside me. I haven’t lost her. She’s here with me, feeling this frenzy, as hungry as I am. I can fix this. I haul her over the side of the tub, onto my lap, water sloshing everywhere.
She twists until she’s straddling me, her thighs a visearound my hips. She winds her arms so tightly around my neck, she’s almost choking me out. She kisses me like it’s been forever, like she’s been miserable without me, too, and something in my chest cracks wide open.
I wrap my arms around her and hold her, tighter than I should, than I would if my insides weren’t shattering. Her tooth scrapes my lip. Her nails dig into my shoulders. I can’t kiss her back hard enough to let her know how much I’ve missed this, missed her, her attention that feels like sunshine, that feels like air.
I want this back.
I want to have never fucked it up. Why did I? Something to do with pride? Some nihilistic impulse? It doesn’t matter. Cora is kissing me, naked, her fingers fumbling from button to button, undressing me. I stroke her tongue with my own, swallowing her whimpers, as I gauge how to stand without dropping her so I can carry her to bed.
I’m going to eat her pussy until I’ve licked her so raw, she kicks me away. I’m going to fuck another baby into her. She’s not getting out of bed until I see two pink lines on a stick.
Her small hand finds a way under my waistband and grazes my straining cock. I groan, burying my fingers in her hair.
My phone rings. Cora startles, blinking. I reach for my pocket. She’s faster.
It’s probably Logan. Only family and key staff have the number.
Cora jerks her head, yanking her hair out of my hand, and looks down at the screen. Her face crumbles. Her eyes dim. My stomach plummets. I glance down.
