Page 88 of Trigger Happy Ending

I kinda hate him for that.

I think.

Oh god, I need to get out of bed before I do something stupid, like drag my tongue down his chest and put his dick in my mouth. I watch his chest rise and fall, tattoos expanding with each deep, restful breath.

I peel back the sheets and slip quietly into the en suite. Cranking the shower on, I step beneath the warm spray and brace my hands against the cool tile. Maybe the water will wash some sense into me, strip me back to my mean girl best. I close my eyes and let the hot water trickle down over my face.

It was one night. It’s out of my system. It’s done.

A lie obviously, duh.

Steam swells thick around me, followed by a prickling that crawls over my skin. I'm being watched.

My instincts snap awake, eyes open.

Soren’s in the bathroom. Silent as an assassin, which is annoyingly on brand. He doesn’t say a word, just steps into the shower with me, letting the water hit his chest and run down over all that hard, tattooed skin. It takes every ounce of self-control not to drop my gaze below his waist.

That plan dies the second I realize he’s already hard.

He reaches for my face. I should slap his hand away.

Instead, I freeze as his thumb drags slowly over my bottom lip. Then his touch slips lower, down the slick column of my throat, over my collarbone, between my breasts, across my stomach. By the time his hand reaches between my thighs, my body is shaking, my mind bending.

I hate that I’m wet. Hate that the mere sight of him has me on fucking heat.

Water sprays against my back, runs over his shoulders, slides down the hard planes of his body while steam curls around us, trapping us inside this wet, white little world. He fingers part me easily, because of course they do. He presses a finger inside me, and a traitorous, breathless moan escapes my lips.

“That sound …” he rasps, eyes flaring.

I can barely get a word out. “What?”

“It’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

The spray mists around us as he shoves me back against the wall, the tile cold and slick against my spine while his body burns against the front of mine. His lips brush the crook of my neck, then his teeth scrape lightly over my skin, sending shockwaves straight between my legs.

His tongue is in my mouth, and I forget how to think. Or maybe I forget everything because his lips are blades and they are cutting me deep.

My hand wraps around his cock, stroking him slowly, firmly, loving the hard, heavy drag of him in my palm while he slips another finger inside me. I moan into his mouth, helpless at the feeling of him having me all over again, his hand skilled between my thighs while the shower rains heat down around us.

This shower is hot. It's too hot in here. This is fine. I’m fine, right?

“This is the last time we’re doing this,” I lie, breaking from the kiss even as I keep grinding against his hand. “So fuck me like it.”

Soren doesn't say anything, but his lips curl in a way that tells me he knows I'm a lying bitch.

Soren slips his fingers from inside me and spins me around in one hard movement. My palms slap against the wet, cold tile right next to my face. The coldness of the tile a welcome reprieve from the heat engulfing my body. My cheek brushes the wall as water runs down between my breasts, over my stomach, along my thighs. He’s at my back in the next breath, chest slick against my skin, one hand spreading over my hip.

“If this is the last time we fuck,” he says, dropping his lips to my ear, "then you should know this."

There’s zero warning before he’s inside me. A feral sound rips from my throat as he begins take me from behind. “I’m going to fucking ruin you for anyone else.”

Yeah. I know. That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

Soren slams into me again, and again, driving me into the wall while water sprays around us, spattering across the tile and skin. His hand fists at my hip, holding me exactly where he wants me while the other slides up my stomach and locks there.

But the fear of being ruined doesn’t last, dissolving along with my dignity and self-control, as he thrusts into me harder and harder, again and again.

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