I think about it for a second. “Both.”
“Scarlett and Phoenix. Our alter-egos,” he chuckles, feathering along my jawline. “The ones who make the best bad decisions.”
“Scarlett was supposed to be the lie,” I say, finally realizing something. “Turns out she was the part of me that told the truth.”
“Even last night in Vegas?” Donovan asks, meeting my gaze. Emotion swirls behind his eyes.
“Especially in Vegas.”
He pulls me into the shower stall with him, warm water beating down on my back. I let out a contented little sigh as he grabs a bar of soap, lathering me up slowly and painstakingly. Like it matters that he gets this right.
“You do realize you’re still covered in ash and soot?” I gasp as his thick fingers, dip again, sliding soft and sudsy between my legs.
“That okay?” he asks, jaw tightening.
“God, yes, don’t stop.”
“Just getting started, Burgundy,” the big cowboy says, sinking to his knees in front of me. “Because before we can get clean, we need to get very, very dirty.” His thick length is already rock hard and threaded with angry veins.
I squeeze my legs together, thinking about him sliding between them. His hand answers, fingers calloused, rough and longer than I remember, parting me.
“Yes,” I pant, as he guides my thighs wider, sliding one leg over his shoulder.
“Want you to watch,” he says with a wink. “Make sure this is burned into your memory.”
His hand comes up, fingers splaying my lips wide. The stretch is perfect. My breath hitches as his tongue covers me for the first time. My body jumps, hips tilting toward him, hungry, desperate.
He circles me slowly, unraveling my self-control with each twist, each unexpected change in pressure and speed. Lapping and sucking, taking me to the edge, before dropping back again, touch feather-light.
He teases and plays with me, takes me to the edge until I throb and ache, hand buried in his hair, pressing him to me. “Please, Donovan, let me come.”
“Not until you say it,” he grumbles, pulling back and tilting his head up toward me. There’s a wicked smile on his lips.
“Say what?” I pant so tied in knots I’m surprised I can string two words together.
“Call me husband.”
Three words that shatter my world.
His eyes are warm and tender, speaking everything his mouth doesn’t. This isn’t just letting off steam after a night of crazy antics. It means something to him, like we do and that will never change.
“Husband,” I whisper, tasting the word for the first time. I like the flavor. No more loneliness—just safety, pleasure… ridiculous amounts of pleasure.
His eyes crinkle, an ear-to-ear grin capturing his face. His complexion darkens. “Could get used to that.”
Before I can say another word, he’s on me again. His mouth follows. Then his fingers. Rhythm. Pressure. No mercy.
My body floats free, and I see stars. Everything tightens until I’m one throb.
When I fracture around him, my hands are tangled in his hair, pressing him hard against me. He takes me through it, still licking and sucking, praising and stroking until I’m spent, leaning against the wall.
I pant hard, warning, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand if you let go of me.”
“All you need to do is hang on,” he chuckles, springing to his feet and sweeping me off mine.
I wrap my arms around his neck, and my ankles lock above his ass as he sinks into me, slowly, incrementally, taking his time.
He’s too big. I can’t possibly.
