Page 184 of Property of Bob

Ramona lifted her head.

Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were swollen, and she had that slightly dazed look on her face that made me want to start all over again.

I smiled.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Smug.”

“I just fucked you against a shower wall.”

“Yes, Bob. I was here,” she giggled.

“And I’m still standing.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “I think your recovery might officially be over.”

I laughed again. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“You’re holding me against a wall after having sex standing up.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not turning pale.”

“No.”

“You’re not shaking.”

“No.”

“You’re not breathing like you just ran a marathon.”

“I am breathing a little hard.” That had been pretty fucking phenomenal. I shifted my grip under her ass.

Ramona’s eyebrows shot up. “Showing off now?”

“Maybe,” I confessed.

She laughed and leaned forward and pressed her mouth against mine.

I kissed her slowly. No rush. No worrying about whether I had enough strength to keep going. No wondering if my legs were going to start trembling before I was ready. No Ramona stopping every five fucking minutes to ask if I was okay.

Just her.

Me.

And the fact I could hold my woman against a shower wall without wondering if we were both about to end up on the floor.

That felt pretty fucking good.

Ramona pulled back. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“You can put me down now.”