“You need a shower,” is all he says, before setting me down on the edge of the counter, stepping between my legs. I lose the ability to form coherent thought when his warm fingertips brush lightly over my skin, from my neck to my arms, then back up, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Long fingers fiddle with the straps of my bikini, and he dips his head close to mine. For a second, I’m worried he’s about to start something we won’t be able to stop.
We’ve been very firm with our boundaries the past three months, though it’s been hard. Even harder after I moved in here a couple days ago. But like I said before, I want to do right by this relationship, and that means waiting until my sister is out of the picture entirely.
“Do I seem lighter?” he murmurs.
“Lighter?” I mutter, distracted by his warm hands and his hard body and his mouth mere inches away. “What do you mean?”
“Do I seem lighter?” he repeats, something playful dancing in his eyes. “Like, maybe a hundred and thirty pounds, or so?”
My brows pinch. “Landon, what are you talking…” I trail off as his words finally register.
“It’s over?” I breathe, reaching out to grasp his shoulders. I can hardly believe it. “It’s seriously over?”
Because it’s more than just the end of a shitty marriage. It’s freedom from years of lies and twisted manipulation. It’s a fresh start, a revival, a beginning. It’s renewed hope and love and life. It’s everything.
The side of his mouth twitches into a small grin. "Do you still want me now that I’m officially a divorcee?”
He barely gets the words out before I pull his head down, sealing his mouth with mine, no hesitation, no second thoughts, nothing but want, desire, and relief that we can fully embrace each other and this intense, perfect thing between us. His hands weave through my hair, tipping my head back as his mouth devours mine, and my legs lock around his waist as I pull him closer, head spinning and stomach fluttering.
When he finally breaks the kiss, our foreheads press together, but his hands are already moving down my neck, fingers sliding beneath my bikini straps, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touch. He pushes one down my shoulder.
“We should celebrate,” he murmurs. “But first, you need a shower.”
He slides down the other strap and reaches behind me to undo the tie in one swift motion. The top falls away, and his dark eyes roam over my naked chest before he palms my breasts in his big hands, testing their weight, thumbs smoothing maddeningly over the nipples until I’m squirming and panting and reaching for his shirt.
“Only if I have company,” I retort, fumbling with one button after the next. Once it’s undone, I push it free of his body and take a second to just admire him, my eyes wandering over his broad shoulders, trim waist, lean, muscular biceps. He’s beautiful in a way that begs to be photographed. Masculine in a way that demands attention and reverence. Strong and sharp with muscle, but not an intimidating amount. Landon isn’t bulky, but his long, lean muscles are perfect and defined.
“God, you’re hot,” I breathe, freely running my hands down his hard chest and taut stomach. His abdomen flexes as I do so, and my insides respond with an answering ache. “It’s unfair.”
His hands slip into the bottoms of my bikini, fingers stretching the fabric at my hips. “Lift up,” he commands, and I obey, letting him drag down the bottoms until I’m completely bare. There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes as they rake over me, one that has my skin on fire.
“God, you’re sexy,” he murmurs, the feathery touch of his hands running up my calves, thighs, then clasping around my hips as he stands between my legs. “It’s unfair.”
I reach for his belt. “Pants off. I’m an equal opportunity nudist.”
He smirks. “I’d expect nothing less.”
I hastily unbuckle his belt and push down his slacks, revealing his boxer briefs. And then I remove those too.
My eyes widen as I take in all of him—and I meanallof him—for the first time because damn.Damn.No wonder he’s so self-satisfied all the time. I’d suspected he wasn’t lacking in that particular area from that night on the hotel couch, but now that the clothes are gone and I see first-hand, I can confirm my theory.
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you speechless,” he says, with a smug smirk.
My cheeks redden, but before I can formulate a proper comeback, he’s kissing me again, and I melt against him, all the thoughts in my head turning to mush. His tongue explores my mouth as his hands wrap around my back, lifting me off the counter in a swift motion and walking both of us to the shower and beneath the thick stream of water.
He presses me back against the tiled wall, and his hands explore my body in ways I only ever dreamed of, brushing over every curve with a slow, wondrous revelry, turning me to putty in his arms. Everything about him is dizzying, the feel of his body on mine, the suction of his mouth against my neck, the soft, rough sounds he makes against my skin. And when his hand stops between my legs, fingers brushing over me in expert motions that have me panting, I can’t help the sounds that come from my own mouth.
“Landon, I need to touch you,” I say, because I do. I’mdesperateto explore him as he’s exploring me, but before I can reach for his skin, one of his hands encircles both my wrists, pressing them above my head against the wall.
“Wait your turn,” he says in that low, husky voice that sends goosebumps down my spine. “I’m not done yet.”
“Well, when do you think you might be—”
He cuts me off with a rough kiss, nipping my bottom lip with his teeth.
“Relax,” he murmurs, lips brushing against mine, his hand still teasing me. His fingers brush back and forth over the spot that has me writhing, and when one of his fingers dips inside, I swear I see stars. Because everything Landon Blair does is done expertly and perfectly, and while I don’t want to think about how much practice he put in to get here, I’m grateful I get to reap the rewards. Especially when he adds a second finger, both of them pumping in and out until I’m making sounds I wasn’t aware I was capable of. My nails dig into his shoulders as I force myself to stay upright, heat searing through my stomach, up my spine. My hips grind shamelessly against his hand and the fingers buried inside me, needing more.
