Turning around, she faces the stream. “Go for it.”
NowI’m clawing at my clothes. Fumbling with my jeans and socks, I try not to jerk and hurt something else. This is fine.I’mfine. If she starts caring now, I won’t get very far. Nothing is going to get in my way.
The air smells sweet, like citrus fruit. Instead of making my stomach growl with hunger, it’s my cock firming up against my thigh. How many times have I gotten lost in that smell? Too many times to count.
A quiet groan fills the air as I slide the door open enough to make room to enter. Steam rolls out, warm and heavy, carrying that scent deep into my lungs. She doesn’t turn, just bends beneath the stream, enjoying the water against her chest. My throat tightens as I watch suds travel down.
I don’t touch her. Not yet.
I just stand there, letting the water bounce off her body and hit mine as I drink her in. The remaining suds cling to the dip of her waist before gathering in the lush, full curve of her ass. Fuck. My hands fist at my sides, nails biting into my palms.
I want to touch her. Badly.
Her hair is a dark, wet slick against the pale canvas of her skin, tendrils plastered to her neck and shoulders. It’s almost long enough to reach her hips. All those times she’s worn it braided or tied back, I’ve secretly thanked her for her patience.
Her long hair is just one of the many things on my list of reasons why I love her.
Like she can hear my thoughts, she straightens, and I hold my breath before she turns. So slowly, I assume her goal is to torture me.
The water courses over her collarbones, over the swell of her breasts. My gaze locks there, hungry, devouring. Her nipples are taut, pebbled into hard, dusky peaks from having an audience.
Arousal punches through me, sharp and sweet. My mouth actually waters. I want to taste all of those beads of water. I want to taste her. For now, I enjoy the hunger and worship her from a distance for a few more seconds.
After holding back as much as I have? The moment we finally cave is going to taste so potent, I’ll never know an addiction so impossible to beat.
I’m not the only one doing a little staring, either. Once her eyes leave my face, I feel the entire hot trail of her stare as she looks down. Reaching my stomach, she almost looks relieved to see what state it’s in.
Her care and caution are engulfed in a burning heat when she lets her gaze drop even lower. As she notices my growing arousal, she bites down on her bottom lip, barely holding back the start of a whimper.
Last night was more than confessing our feelings to each other. It showed just how hungry she really is. She isn’t even trying to hide the want behind her stare before she moves toward me. Her fingers dance across my chest.
“It’s your turn under the stream.” Keeping her voice low, like a sultry whisper to keep me on my toes, she moves toward the wall, giving me all the room I could need to do as she asks.
Such a tease. She thinks I’m more worried about bathing at a time like this?
Leah squeaks when I’m suddenly on her. Pressing her against the shower wall, she doesn’t try to scold me before shewraps her arms around my neck, accepting the kiss I have to give her.
As the water splashes our legs, I can barely feel it as I’m trying harder to get closer to her. Reaching down for her thigh, I lift her to my hip so I have just enough room to grind against her wet, velvety heat.
Hearing her breath catch in the back of her throat, I swallow down the sound that tries to escape her lips before licking deeper into her mouth.
She arches against the wall perfectly. Knowing I don’t want to slide into her just yet, I keep moving, teasing her like I’m finally going to give us the one thing we both want. Release.
Her mouth opens for me, a surrender so complete it steals the air from my own lungs. The slick friction of her against me is overwhelming, her lush heat stroking the head of my cock like a cruel, intoxicating promise.
Am I going to last once I get inside of her?
I tear my mouth from hers, gasping, my forehead pressed to the wet tile beside her head. My hips keep moving, a relentless, rocking rhythm that has her choking back groans with every grind.
“Every night,” I grit out, the words barely louder than the hiss of the water. “Thought about this. About you. Just like this.”
Her nails bite into my shoulders, her ankle bouncing against the back of my thigh as her other leg trembles.
The air doesn’t just cling with citrus, but with her arousal as well. Without needing to think about it, I’m sucking in each lungful with more desperation than the last.
“Warden—” My name is a broken plea on her lips. Tilting her head back, her eyes pinch close. Clawing my neck in an attempt to keep herself grounded, her hips jerk. “Liam.”
I pause long enough to register my real name coming from her lips. It’s not a mistake that happens often enough, and every time it does, I always have to hold myself back.
