He pulls down his jeans, revealing tree trunk-like thighs, and the gods are smiling at me, because he’s wearing black briefs.
I get a brief glimpse of the outline of his dick before he turns away. My insides cramp, anticipating that log jammed up inside of me. He doesn’t have to choke me to death. He can just impale me with that thing, and I’ll die happy.
While I zoned out in a lust coma, he stepped into the shower and started washing. He’s not going to remove his underwear?
Then I notice his back. Among the tattoos is a huge scar in the shape of a skull. The design looks a lot like the skull ring he wears. Probably some Fraternitas thing, marking their members with a skull brand. The sight of it unsettles me a little. I can’t imagine how much it hurt.
He’s scrubbing with the new bar of soap, his face stoic. It’s got to hurt, but he’s acting like it doesn’t. He’s got scratches all over him from the blackberry briars, but the real issue is going to be the hogweed sap.
“I have some good soap for removing plant toxins,” I say. “Downstairs.”
He jerks his head, flinging his wet hair out of his face. He looks like he’s in a shampoo commercial if the shampoo company wanted to get all the viewers pregnant.
He ignores my offer to get the soap. He probably doesn’t trust anything I’d give him. That’s fair.
“Phototoxic?” he asks, and it takes me a second to figure out he’s referring to our conversation about hogweed.
“Yeah… it’ll blister in the sunlight.” I peer at his skin, and it already looks a little red. He’s definitely getting a rash. “Just wash really well and then make a paste with baking soda and water and apply it to any part of your skin that the plant touched. I can help.”
He doesn’t shout, “No.” His dead-eyed stare says it all.
“Just trying to help,” I mumble.
He goes back to washing, giving me more fodder for my spank bank. He even washes around the big silver skull ring he wears.
“Does that ring mean you killed someone?”
He glances at me, and I shrug. “Someone told me that about Fraternitas. You all get rings after you kill someone.”
“Yes.”
Another bolt of lust slices through me. “Just one?”
He shakes his head, and I have to grip the edge of the counter to keep from falling off.
“More than one? How many? Ten?” I feel like Delilah in Viking Thunder when the hero hits her with his sex lightning. Electrified to the point of weakness. “What’s your body count?”
He squints, looking like he can’t believe I’m getting excited.
“You’ve killed so many people.” I don’t realize I have my hand between my legs until he steps out of the shower and comes to stand before me. My head tips back to take in his wary expression. I’m so turned on, I’m making more bad decisions, but I can’t stop myself. “That’s so hot.”
Water’s pouring off of him, soaking my living moss bath mat. Meanwhile, I’m leaving a wet spot on the marble countertop. I move my fingers slightly, brushing my sex. If I make my movements small, maybe he won’t notice.
He reaches past me to his duffel bag and pulls out a pair of black latex gloves. The sort a professional thief might wear.
Or an assassin.
I should get ready to fight for my life, but I’m mesmerized. This is just like my fantasy…
He grabs my hand and pins it in the small of my back, making me arch toward him. One more inch and he’ll be close enough for my nipples to brush against his bare chest.
His hair is even more curly when it’s wet. I want to touch it, but I don’t dare move.
“What are you going to do now?—”
He shoves two gloved fingers into my mouth. The force tips my head back.
The gloves are slick and leave a rubbery taste on my tongue. I’m gonna die.
