Page 42 of Shark’s Pride

“Where the hell is that stuff?” I muttered while dropping to all fours and leaning into the cabinet under my bathroom sink. One wrong move and I’d face-plant into the storage space completely.

“Aha!”

I grabbed the dayglow pink bottle and backed out. Or so I thought. I rose too soon and smacked the back of my head on the edge of the cabinet door casing.

“Motherfucker! Fuck!” But that was all the self-pity I had time for. Minutes were ticking by, which meant it was time for me to suck it up.

I plugged my phone into the speaker system in the bathroom, surfed to a relaxing playlist, and adjusted the volume on the speakers. All that was left to do was light the candles I had set around the room. I finished while listening to Craig greet Abbigail as he opened the front door for her.

She didn’t spend much time on pleasantries with my assistant, opting to head straight toward the stairs.

Making her way to me.

But my balloon of obnoxious pride was pierced as soon as I laid eyes on her.

She looked exhausted. Her mouth was tight and her posture weary. Her eyes were tired. The same eyes that found me when I got to the midpoint on the marble stairs.

“Hey there.” She attempted to lift her lips, but the energetic smile that usually illuminated an entire room was a dim shadow instead. But weirdly, her dim energy drew me faster toward her. By the time I got all the way down the stairs, her chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm with my steps.

“Hey yourself.” I didn’t stop advancing. Not until my arms were around her waist, pulling her against my body. My lips found their way to the satin skin of her neck. The woman had the silkiest flesh my tongue had ever explored.

Her sigh, sounding like a mix of relief and bliss, warmed the base of my throat. Her body slackened, allowing the purse on her shoulder to drop to the crook of her elbow. I slid the burden all the way off her arm and then continued the motion, tucking her hand around my bicep.

“Come with me,” I directed and then led her back up the stairs.

I had run the bathwater hotter than usual, calculating for the temperature to be perfect by the time she got settled up here. With all the blinds closed and the sun moved over to the other side of the house, the master suite and bathroom were mostly dark. The candles were the sole light source across the bathroom. In my rush, I could only find about fifteen randomly shaped and scented candles, but it was enough to do the job. The room smelled like a cross between a flower garden and fresh linen, but the ambiance was still relaxing. And, at least I hoped, romantic.

“Bas.” As Abbi breathed it out, the curves of her face were a candlelit collection of delight. I couldn’t help being clear about it, since she turned and dazzled me with it while cradling my face in her hands. “This is…perfect.”

I was damn grateful for the muted lighting, hoping it concealed the color that rushed to my face. I refused to call it a blush.

“Not sure about the execution,” I muttered. “But ‘perfect’ was the ultimate plan.”

She rose on tiptoes and softly claimed my mouth with hers. “I can’t wait to get in—but only if you’ll join me.”

I raised my brows. “That was definitely the plan.” And then moved in for another kiss, longer and more languorous.

When we finally untangled our tongues from each other, I tugged the tank top over her head and dropped it to the floor. I stepped back, but only far enough to untie her wide leather belt. I added it to the small pile.

“Now you,” she said shyly—though she wasn’t too bashful to pull my shirt off. She stepped out of her sandals while I unfastened my jeans, not confident I could withstand her innocent hands fumbling around so close to my hard-on.

“Oh! You even have bubbles.” Her impish expression was eclipsed by the sight of her succulent breasts, bared for my appraisal as soon as I unclasped her bra. “Impressive, Mr. Shark.”

No. “Impressive” was definitely this pair of gorgeous tits—but I managed to restrain my inner rogue. “Well, if that’s all it takes to impress you, my dear, I’m getting off easy tonight.” I braced my hold to her hips and pulled her back against me. “Though to be clear, I’ll accept ‘getting off’ in any way I can.”

In one motion, I swept her skirt and panties down, puddling them at her feet. “Bas!” she yelped, and that sound alone had my cock jumping again.

“Yes?” Somehow, I got it out with normal inflection instead of an aroused groan. While my body betrayed how I already craved to skip the bath, she was more than a sex toy to me—and I was about to prove that if it killed me.

I helped my effort by taking more action. As I squatted at her feet to help her step totally out of the clothes, she steadied herself by holding my shoulders. “So chivalrous,” she murmured, adding a light laugh.

“Not for long,” I growled.

“I’m all yours, Mr. Shark.”

“Come on. Let’s get in before it cools off too much.” I helped her climb into the deep tub, and she sank to her shoulders into the bubbly water.

“Oh, God,” she groaned. “This is fantastic.”