“Because if you don’t leave right now, I’m going to do something we’ll both lose our minds over.”
“Like what?”
“Claudette.” My name came out almost like a warning. “Go.”
“But your eyes?—”
“Are fine now. Go.”
I should’ve listened. Should’ve turned around and walked out and given him his privacy.
Instead I took a step closer. Right to the edge of the shower. Close enough that water was misting my face.
“What if I don’t want to go?”
His jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Then you’re playing a very dangerous game.”
“Maybe I like danger.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Something hot and hungry and barely controlled.
He moved before I could blink. One second he was in the shower, the next he was right there, water dripping everywhere, backing me up against the bathroom counter.
His hands came up to bracket me in, palms flat on the counter on either side of my hips. Caging me in. His face was inches from mine.
“You let me walk out of the shower half-blind,” he said quietly. His voice was deep. Dangerous. “Made me stumble around soaking wet. All because you set something on fire.”
“It was an accident?—”
“I know.” His eyes dropped to my mouth. “But I’m feeling a little vengeful right now.”
“Vengeful how?”
Instead of answering, he kissed me.
Finally.
His mouth was soft and warm and devastatingly sure, and I melted into him without thinking. My hands came up to his chest—wet and solid and warm under my palms—and he made a sound low in his throat that I felt everywhere.
His hands slid from the counter to my waist, pulling me flush against him, andoh god, we were completely pressed together now, nothing between us but my clothes and that towel that was definitely going to fall off if this continued.
I kissed him back with everything I had. All the wanting from the past week, the frustration of slow, all the need I’d been trying to ignore.
His mouth trailed to my jaw, then my neck, pulling a gasp out of me before I could stop it. His stubble scratched my skin in the best way and I arched into him without meaning to.
“Michael—”
“Shh.” His mouth was at my ear now. “You taste like you’ve been waiting for this.”
“I have been,” I admitted breathlessly.
He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and the way he was looking at me made my stomach flip.
Then he stepped back—abruptly, like he’d yanked himself out of a fire.
“You need to leave,” he said.
“What? Why?”
