Hated the thread of pain tracing through it.
She urged me to lean back, wetting my hair and washing it with gentle hands.
Her fingers stilled on my neck, and that tiny frown creasing her brow told me what she was thinking of.
“I train a lot,” I said. “I’m always sporting bruises. That wasn’t a hickey.”
Looking up, she studied my face before nodding. “I was jealous.”
“And I was a fool for letting you believe it, for giving you a reason not to trust me.”
“Don’t let her touch you.”
I adored the sharp edge in her voice. “Only you get to brand me.”
“That’s right.”
My lips curled up.
After she’d rinsed my hair, she massaged my scalp while I tipped my head back and savored the care in her touch.
My cock was a stiff rod between us; there was no denying I wanted everything this woman might ever offer, but she didn’t shrink from it. In fact, she scooted closer, placing the junction between her thighs against it, then rocked.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Minx.”
“The death of us both.” Her voice came out low and throaty.
Every breath she took in my arms felt like a gift.
Her hands slid lower, gliding across my neck, my shoulders, the ridges of muscle in my chest. I caught one wrist, kissed the inside of it, and let her palm rest over my heart so she could feel what she was doing to me.
Taking some scented oil, I rubbed it into her shoulders, tracing my fingertips along her sides, bringing out her shiver.
“Touch yourself for me?” I asked. “I want to see, want to learn what feels good so I can do it for you myself.”
Her eyes widened, a flicker of shy heat crossing her face, but then she nodded.
The water lapped around us, steam curling up from the surface, carrying the faint scent of the oil.
I could tell she’d decided to own this moment.
“Watch me,” she whispered. “I’m touching myself for you.”
52
ISI
The air between us hummed like a live wire, charged with something I couldn’t name without shattering. My pulse came too quick, too loud; I was certain he could hear it, that his ears could track the frantic beat like prey. The thought both terrified me and sent a flush racing down my neck, because some traitorous part of mewantedhim to know how undone I already was.
His eyes caught mine, steady as moonlight on water. There was no mockery in them, only a gravity that pulled at me.
“Look at me,” he said.
I almost laughed. Not because it was funny, but because I stood on the edge of trembling, and laughter was the only thing that would hold me together.
He took my wrist and brought it up, pressing my palm to his mouth, the brush of his lips against the heel of my hand making my belly tumble. My skin tingled as though he’d sealed a vow there, one I didn’t yet understand.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said, his voice thick as velvet, though he didn’t release me. “But I want you to be honest. Don’t hide from me.”
