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The little bit of satisfaction it had is nowhere near enough.
“Show me,” I whisper.
Our gazes collide. I don’t flinch. He remains stiff and in control
“Summer,” he finally replies. His eyes are dark and intense, his breathing heavy.
“Show me,” I say it again.
The bath is filling up; steam is starting to rise from the water. I let the sheet fall to the floor, my invitation clear.
His mouth crashes on mine, taking, seeking, owning, possessing. His hand tangles in my hair, full of cream and my arousal. My hands seek his body, I need to feel him and touch him.
With my long strands wrapped in his fingers, he pulls my face away.
“You want to know, princess?” his tone borders on a sneer and a plea.
With my head tilted back, I look up at him, daring him to give me what he’s got.
“Yes.”
The corners of his mouth lift up. “Then I’ll show you. But not tonight.” He lifts me up and slowly lowers me in the tub. “Bath. I’ll wash you.”
