Page 21
Despite her protests, her tears, her hatred—she would marry me. Soon.
Today, events had slipped from my grasp, threatening everything I’d built.
That would never happen again.
With my resolve hardened, I reached for the shampoo. After pooling a small amount of the iridescent liquid in my palm, I shifted to run my hands through her tangled hair.
“Don’t. I can do it myself.”
“I know you can.” I gently worked the shampoo into her curls anyway.
She fell silent, her body slowly relaxing against mine despite herself.
Keeping her within my embrace, I massaged her scalp, creating a thick lather, then rinsed out the suds until the water ran clear and her curls were slick and smooth between my fingers. The vanilla scent filled the steam-clouded air, mingling with the musk undertones of our earlier violence.
Still refusing to release her, I soaped up my palms and ran my hands down the elegant curve of her back and over her slender arms, goose bumps rising beneath my touch.
Sabrina let her head fall back, a low moan escaping her lips.
The sound of her voice hardened my cock painfully against the wet denim where I'd tucked it back inside my jeans, while still leaving the zipper down. The desire to pull it out again was strong; despite everything, her body still responded to mine.
Yet something was different. She yielded physically, but there was a stillness I couldn't name. It wasn’t the rigid defiance I'd grown addicted to breaking. Not surrender either.
Something calculated. Strategic. I didn't like it.
“Your body knows the truth, even when your mouth lies.”
Adding more lather to my hands, I swept them over the fullness of her breasts, my thumbs grazing her nipples. I traced the curve of her hips with possessive fingers that left faint red marks in their wake.
I almost hesitated to cup her pussy, not wanting to wash away the evidence of our coupling, but when her lips parted on a soft gasp, I pushed my hand between her legs.
Her hands shot out to grasp my forearm, nails biting into my flesh.
“Sebastian—” My name broke on her lips.
“Shh.” The edge of my palm pressed against her swollen clit as I pushed two fingers inside her still-sensitive heat. “Let me take care of you.”
Her hips rolled against my hand. “I hate you.”
“I know.” I circled the pad of my thumb over her clit in slow, deliberate circles. “Hate me all you want. It won’t change anything.”
With her eyes closed, dark lashes fanned against flushed cheeks, she moaned again, digging her fingertips deeper into my skin.
The steam from the shower swirled around us, sealing us in our own private cocoon, away from the havoc of the day. I increased the pressure and tempo of my movement, driving her toward release. My free hand gripped her hip, holding her in place when her knees threatened to buckle.
The moment she came, her entire body shuddered against mine.
She pressed her breasts against my chest, and a sob caught in her throat.
I wrapped my arms tightly around her, enveloping her completely, and rocked us slightly.
The sweet perfume of her hair filled my lungs, the texture of her tresses soft beneath my lips. “That’s my good girl.”
After holding her close for several minutes longer, I reluctantly released her.
The separation was like tearing flesh from bone.
Leaving her under the comforting shower stream, I stepped out to grab two towels from the warming rack. My jeans, soaked through, clung to my thighs with each movement. The wet denim chafed uncomfortably. I would change after seeing her dry and warm.
