Whenever she gasps, the sound feeds something dark inside me.
And though I wish I could stop and kiss her, I don’t. I go on, running the cloth along her hips.
Skylar bites her lip, suppressing a moan when I swipe the cloth between her legs, over her smooth pussy. It has to be the prettiest, pinkest, and barest one anywhere in the world.
My erection hurts as much as it feels good. My pulse pounds in a strange cadence that has my teeth aching. The restraint it takes not to slide into her until we both find relief costs me heavily.
For now, I have this—her whimpers, her trembling, the way she squirms when I circle the washcloth over her hipbones and drag up higher to her navel, and back down to that sweet little valley that begs to be licked.
But being turned on doesn’t make me reckless. When I get to her wound, I don’t scrub it. I don’t agitate it. Won’t open it when the bleeding has finally stopped.
While I cautiously pat the area, her hands tremble as she lifts them.
She reaches back to find me.
Her fingers brush the short hair at my nape, skimming my jaw as if searching for proof I’m really here. Maybe she’s hoping to make sense of this, of us.
Either way, I let her.
“You…” Her fingertips press harder into my skin, burning me.
I stifle a groan. Clear my throat. “Yes, Trouble?”
“Knox, what are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?”
She flinches, letting go of me, her hands dropping to her sides.
“Not mad at you.”
This damn angle is what bothers me. It isn’t working. I can’t reach her calves.
I shift, dragging her even closer, until her back is flush with my chest. Exactly where I want her.
Like this, all of her heat seeps into me, swelling in my chest. I’m forced to pause, to breathe, to calm the fuck down before I forget why I’m here.
Before I bend her over and take her like the animal I am.
Releasing her throat, I brace her with one arm around her waist and slide my other hand under her thigh. Her flesh yields against my grip. Leaning back against the wall, I lift her leg higher, close enough to reach her calf with the cloth.
“Stop. Whatever it is you’re doing, stop.” Her cry snaps me out of my trance. “Let me go. No.”
She hates that my cock is hard against her back. Hates knowing we’re both naked, that I could do anything to her.
That she might want it too.
I don’t hate any of it. Not a goddamn bit.
She belongs to me.
Her body is an extension of mine, her shivers and gasps already written into my skin. Droplets from my hair slide down her shoulder, down her arms.
Our connection burns hotter, brighter, than anything I’ve ever known.
Nonoorpleasewould ever weaken my resolve. She can’t run away from this.
I squeeze her thigh to remind both of us of that fact. Of this truth.
