I seem scrawny by comparison, but I remind myself not to judge so harshly.
Until I set eyes on Valentina, I’d never wanted to be taller. Never wanted massive boobs or hips like Kim Kardashian’s.
But perhaps Slayer prefers women like her. And why not? She matches him quite well—tall, broad-shouldered. Both have dark, lustrous hair and flashing black eyes.Twins.
I wrap the towel around my body and step into the steam room. The sound of water hissing on hot stones and aroma of eucalyptus greets me. And amethyst sparkles everywhere in the dim light.
When the door creaks open again, I pull my towel tighter.
It’s Slayer, wearing a very small towel slung so low on his hips I can see the tantalizing V-shaped indention on his abs.
Combine that with his broad shoulders and gladiator-style pecs, and I melt despite myself.
“Well. We meet again,” I say, determined to break the stone-cold tension between us. I hold my breath, waiting.
He sits down beside me and takes my hand. “I want to apologize,” he begins.
I shake my head. “Let’s forget it. It’s over. From now on, I’m playing the role of supportive girlfriend. Supporting my man.”
“You’ve done a good job with that so far—even when I haven’t been the best boyfriend. Though Sterling warned I’d have to keep you in line.”
“Oh, did he now?”
Slayer leans in for a kiss. His lips are soft, tasting like spice and leather, the way his skin always smells.
I don’t consider myself that kind of girl, but nonetheless I trace the inside of his thigh with my finger, moving slowly toward his groin. There’s no press here, so I know this has to be just for me.
And he’s already hard.
Aroused.
Not by Valentina.
By me.
“Oh, Slayer,” I murmur, turning toward him and pressing myself against his chest. My towel drops. My bare skin flushes against his.
Our kissing intensifies. He’s cupping my breasts, teasing my nipples.
A hot bolt sparks through me like a live circuit.
I twist myself on top of him, grinding against him, our slick bodies sliding together in the steam.
Slayer groans and clutches me tighter.
The head of his cock presses against my entrance. I feel it. Want it.
“Slayer,” I whisper, ready.
But he stops.
“No,” he says. “Not like this. You deserve more.”
I let out a low laugh. “On the contrary. What I deserve is satisfaction,” I say with a teasing edge, lifting my mouth to his.
He kisses me. Then pulls back. “No. Not this way.”
“Yes, this way.” I turn toward him again, making sure I touch him in a way he can’t ignore.
