“Fuck off and let me have my time with her,” Ash snarls over his shoulder.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I say, resting a hand against his chest and trying to soothe him.
His sharp gaze jerks towards me and where I’m touching himthrough his silly t-shirt. His free hand tightens around the pile of clothes he’s carrying for me.
“Fine,” he growls, walking me backwards into the bathroom.
The moment the door shuts behind us, his lips are on mine. The kiss is intense. All-consuming. It’s like he’s trying to claim and mark my entire body from that one point of contact alone.
He breaks the kiss, leaving me gasping for breath. Then he whips off his t-shirt, tugging it one-handed over his shoulder, his forearms flexing with the motion. Then he stands there in front of me, planes of rippling muscle on display.
Wow.
My breath catches in my throat. Ash hasn’t exactly worn a lot of clothes around me before, so I don’t think I understood the power of watching someone take off their clothes. I don’t even think he was trying to do it in a sexy way. But the jerky movement was a testament to the strength he keeps just bubbling under the surface.
And I’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times before.
But right now feels different.
It feels even more intense than when he kissed me for the first time.
“Like what you see?” He teases, his lips tugging up in a smirk that’s just as sharp as the rest of his features.
“Wh—huh?” I blink up at him, shaking myself to focus on his face instead of his body.
The low chuckle that leaves his chest vibrates through my own. My perfume swirls around in the surrounding air, thickening in the small confines of the bathroom.
“Fucking hell,” he growls, dipping his head to rest in the crook of my neck along my uninjured side.
Then he licks me.
His tongue is flat against my skin, dragging against the column of my neck, sending a shudder down my spine. An embarrassing whine leaves my throat.
His matching growl has me freezing in place as he tugs me against his body, teeth scraping against the delicate skin he just licked.
“Careful, shortcake,” he growls against my skin.
“Wh—why do you want me to be careful?” I whisper, clinging to his shoulders.
“Because you’re driving me insane, and I don’t think you can handle what I’d want from you.”
“What do you want from me? And what makes you think I can’t handle it?” My voice is barely above a whisper. It’s shaky and uncertain, but I know what I’m doing by asking the question.
It seems to have the intended effect because Ash spins me around so my back is to his front. His movements are rough, but it’s obvious to me he’s incredibly aware of my injured shoulder. I think it just speaks to the control he has.
Which only makes me even more aware of the slick soaking into the thin fabric of the lingerie I’m still wearing.
He walks me forward until I’m standing in front of the sink. In front of the mirror. His hand rests against the bottom of my jaw, not squeezing, but there, as he guides my head so I’m forced to look at us. At myself.
“I don’t think you get what you do to us,” he growls, lowering his head to the crook of my neck again.
His hand doesn’t move. It keeps me in place as I watch him lay kisses that only grow more possessive along my skin.
And then his hips shift forward.
I feel him. All of him. The sweatpants he’s wearing don’t hide the throbbing of his hard length at all.
Oh wow.
