Since today she was in the business of admitting truths, she told him, “Because if I made it easy for you, you might stop.”
He brushed her loose hair back over her shoulder. The steam from the shower had dampened the strands and one stuck to the side of her breast, forcing him to run a finger under the wet ribbon of hair.
Her nipple pinched painfully at the proximity of his touch. And she nearly moaned in disappointment when he didn’t cup her breast. Instead he gently brushed that recalcitrant lock of hair behind her ear.
“I’ll never stop complimentin’ ya, darlin’.” His voice was low and deep and seemed to come up from the broad expanse of his chest. “Because no matter what crazy notions ya got in your head”—he tapped her uninjured temple—“I know the truth. The truth that your form matches your heart. And both are so beautiful I can’t imagine how I got so lucky as to have ya here with me.”
“Kiss me again, Fish,” she begged, hating the distance between them.
Hating that she could see all that lovely, crinkly hair smattered across his chest but not feel it abrading her nipples. Hating that, from the corner of her eyes, she could see the long, solid length of his erection standing tall and proud between them but couldn’t feel it cushioned against the curve of her belly.
“Stop talking and kiss me breathless,” she added desperately.
“Oh, I plan to do that and more.” Confidence was in his tone, teasing was in his eyes. “But first let me look at ya. I’ve been dreamin’ of this day for years. Don’t rush me now.”
She twisted her hands together, feeling unsure. But he grabbed them in one of his hands and whispered, “Trust me.”
All the tension drained out of her. So did all the uncertainty.
Shedidtrust him.
Trusted him more than she’d ever trusted anyone because he’d only ever been good and true.
When he saw her acceptance, he stepped back farther so the water rained down over his shoulders and ran in thick rivulets through the hair on his chest, over the rippling muscles of his stomach, and seemed to make love to the thick rod of flesh that sprung unrepentantly from between his legs.
For mercy’s sake!
She’d peeked before. But it had been quick and only from her periphery.
Fisher was…wow.
There weren’t words. Or maybe there were, because while she’d always thought his body was perfectly proportioned—Ryan Reynolds onlywishedhe could be so physically superlative—and while she’d always thought his face was exquisite, neither his body nor his god-like jawline could compare to the sheer flawlessness of his erection.
He was long and straight and thick. His skin there was two shades darker than the flesh on his body. And his mushroom cap head was plump and promised untold pleasure. Thick veins snarled up and around, pulsing with every beat of his heart. And when he caught her staring and…drooling? Was she drooling? His entire cock wagged as if to welcome her perusal.
To her utter delight, he grabbed his wide base and squeezed. Seeing him touch himself after years offantasizingabout him touching himself made her throat go as dry as the desert wind despite the thick humidity in the shower.
“This is what happens when I look at ya, Liza.” His voice was gruff. “When I see those pale, perfect breasts topped by those cotton candy nipples. When I see the inky softness of your pubic hair coverin’ your sweet pussy. When I see how long and luscious your legs are and how”—he pressed a hand on her hip, turning her slightly—“full and firm your ass is, I’m so hard I feel like I might split my own skin.”
She took a page from Hannah Blue’s alien books and didn’t give in to self-consciousness. Instead, she reached forward and took him in hand.
“That would be a shame,” she whispered, shocked at the heat of him, the steely hardness of him, the…thicknessof him. Her fingers struggled to wrap around the entirety of his girth.
He hissed and threw his head back. His Adam’s apple invited the nip of her teeth, and she didn’t deny herself the pleasure.
That was all it took to break the hold he had over himself. She suddenly found her back pressed against the back wall. The tiles were warm from the steam. But nothing was as hot as Fisher pressing his entire length against her front.
His chest was solid. His mouth was ravenous. But the best part?
Oh, the best part was the way his hands roamed over her skin, igniting flames of desire wherever he touched. And she couldn’t deny his practiced skill, how he was both gentle and commanding.
He gripped her hip, holding her firmly against him. Then his rough calluses skated up her side, coming to a stop just beneath her breast. His tongue had been eagerly exploring her mouth, but when his thumb bumped the underside of her boob, he pulled back.
She blinked bleary eyes but closed them again on a groan when he cupped her breast and plumped it high. “Yes,” she encouraged.
“My favorite word,” he rumbled as his thumb passed over her nipple once, twice, three times. It was as if a string was attached from her breast to her womb, and his soft caresses awakened a hunger deep inside her core.
“Take me to bed, Fish,” she whispered as his thumb continued to circle the painful point.
