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Steam churns around us. The mirror fogs.
After testing the pelting water, I come back to her.
She wets her lips and slips off the countertop. “Help me undress?”
“Yeah.” My throat feels like there are shards of glass in it.
Careful of her arm, I take her clothes off. First the puffy parka, then the oversized hoodie and jeans. She shivers in her bra and her panties, her dark hair spilling down over her slender shoulders and porcelain skin. My gaze drops to her belly. Small, slightly swollen, sexy as hell.
“Let’s protect that cast,” I say, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her arm. It’ll have to do for now.
Dakota’s smile is wan. “Hotshot to the rescue again.” She slips her good hand behind her, and before I can say anything, her bra is off.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Perfect full breasts.
I’m glued to the spot. Dakota’s a dream. A man doesn’t wake up from a woman like this.
She stares at me with those incredible brown eyes, like she’s waiting for me to do something, say something. “Well?”
“Dakota. Get in the goddamn shower,” I say harshly.
After a frustrated tilt of her chin, she kicks away her jeans, and steps into the shower in a silky, barely there thong. I avert my gaze from the sway of her tight little ass and battle the low groan building in my chest. Because fuck me, it’s not okay how badly I want her.
Still, I can’t keep my eyes off her for long, because when I glance back over, she’s drawing the curtain shut, her balance precarious.
Something primitive and protective courses through my bloodstream.
Has me storming across the tile. When I reach through the sheer shower curtain to hold her firmly by the elbow, she gasps.
“I can do it, Hotshot.”
“You’re not slipping,” I order, holding tighter.
While she soaps her curves and her belly, I grit my teeth and try not to look as the hot water rains over her body. Until one pert nipple drags over the roughness of my knuckles.
I whip my head to her. “Jesus Christ, Koty.”
Her coy smile causes my cock to jerk to attention.
So goddamn wrong.
She just had a panic attack, and now she’s daring me to do something with the fire building in my veins.
That’s fucking it.
With a rough hand, I tear open the curtain and lift her out of the shower. I carry her dripping wet across the bathroom floor, set her down on top of the counter, and cover her with a towel.
Her shoulders rotate back and she stares at me as if she’s furious and sad at the same. “I thought you wanted me warm.”
I softly grip her jaw and lean in. Her brown eyes narrow so fiercely I could burn up in their fire. “I won’t play this game, Dakota.”
“What game?” The slender length of her throat works. “You don’t touch me. You haven’t touched me since I got here.”
A muscle pulses in my jaw. “Dakota, this is not what you need right now.”
