I groaned.
She kissed the top of my head. “Shower’s running. You’ve got about ten seconds before I decide to do it without you.”
I stood, grabbing her wrist and pulling her flush against me.
“Baby, you’re lucky I can still stand.”
Her arms slid around my neck. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”
I brushed my teeth. Gargled a heap of mouth wash. While Madeline got the shower ready.
She dropped the robe and stepped into the shower first. And I should’ve known right then I was in trouble. Her back was turned as she adjusted the heat, she looked like some kind of fucking slow-motion fantasy. When she turned, her eyes caught mine, and just like that, I forgot how to breathe.
She was so fucking beautiful.
I stepped in after her, every muscle in my body stiff, but not for the usual reasons. My head still pounded, the hangover not letting up, and it made everything worse—made mefeeleverything. The heat. Her skin. The quiet of us. How badly I wanted her. And how fucking fragile this moment felt.
She took the body wash and lathered it between her palms, not saying anything as she stepped close. I wanted to say something. A joke maybe. Ease the tension.
But then she brushed a scar a little too softly across ink. I hated how exposed I felt. Not because I was naked. But because she was seeing me.Allof me.
The bruises on my ribs from last week’s job. The crow ink that marked me. The old knife wound on my left side. She paused at that one. Her fingers traced it.
Then she leaned forward and pressed a kiss just above the scar. “I missed you.”
Fuck.I closed my eyes, trying not to groan. She worked her way down, her palms sliding over my abs, slow and reverent, and I could feel my control slipping, inch by inch.
“I’m really regret drinking last night,” I muttered.
She smiled up at me. “Why?”
“Second time you’re naked in front of me, and I’m too fucked up to touch you the way I want to.”
“You’re touching me,” she pressed her hand to my chest.
“Not like I would if I were sober.”
She tilted her head, that knowing smile curving her lips. “So tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“What you’d do if you were sober.”
“Madeline…”
She reached behind me, water running down her back, “I’m just asking. What would this morning look like if you hadn’t been drinking?”
I swallowed. “It would’ve started between your legs.”
She blinked, then smiled, so soft it almost broke me.
“That’s where I belong,” I said roughly. “On my knees. Worshiping you.”
She dragged her nails across my chest again. “What about now… in here?”
“Fuck.” My head hit the shower tile behind me. “You trying to kill me?”
“Maybe.”
