She could feel herself straining towards him, aching to be touched. He ran a finger down her forehead, down her nose and to her mouth. She parted her lips and took it inside, sucking on it greedily.
‘But anything else goes, right?’
He used her spare toothbrush and they cleaned their teeth, watching each other in the bathroom mirror. The strangeness of the situation bringing that half-smile to his face, his mouth irresistible even when it was frothing with foam. Damn.
‘Can I shower?’ he asked and she nodded at his reflection, suddenly having lost the ability to speak. Reaching into the cubicle, he turned the water to full pelt. As she tied her hair up to wash her face, Etienne began to undress behind her. He undid the buttons of his shirt, peeling it off to reveal his muscular and smooth chest. The line of hair starting from his belly button and heading down. His shoulder had a bruise forming on it already, from where he hit the floor, showing blue-green under the skin. She smoothed her cleanser over her face on autopilot, her eyes glued to him. He pulled at his belt and then released the buttons of his jeans. Shucking them down over his hips, they fell to the floor and he stepped out of them, standing only now in his fitted boxers. She put the hot cloth to her cheeks and began to massage off the cleanser in careful circles, thinking about what was under those shorts.
He raised one eyebrow at her in the mirror and then turned. She let her eyes feast on the contours of his back, the round of his buttocks, the long, strong legs. Using both thumbs, he pulled down the shorts. She realised she’d stopped attempting any kind of face washing and let the hot cloth fall in the sink. He looked at her over his shoulder and flashed her a smile, before stepping into the shower, back still turned. She was gripping the sink with both hands.
She’d never seen him naked. He’d never seen her naked. Not completely. She wanted to see him all, feel all of him.
She pulled her top over her head in one movement. Her own shoulder smarted where Toothpick had shoved her, but she didn’t give it a second thought. She pushed down her jeans and left them there on the floor. Unclipping her bra, she let it fall and she kicked her thong to join his pile of clothes.
His back was still to her as he ran his hands through his hair under the jet, sending the water cascading down his body. Opening the shower door, she stepped inside, pressing herself against his back and hearing his gasp above the sound of the beating water as she wrapped her arms around him from behind.
‘Bella,’ he said quietly, and she smiled to herself, her forehead to his shoulder, her breasts to his ribs. He was the only person in the world to call her that and she loved the sound of it. She explored his chest with her fingers, feeling his nipples bud like hers under her fingertips. She trailed her fingers lower, skating over the taut abs which quivered slightly at her touch, brushing the tiny trail of hair from his navel and down. He turned in her grasp before she could reach his cock, his body soap slippery against her, and pulled her further into the torrent of water so that it ran in rivulets from her breasts, and down between her legs. She widened her stance, letting the water run where she wanted his fingers, his breath, his cock.
‘I want you,’ she said, voice husky. She put her hands to his head, gently avoiding the cut, and held his face to hers. The first touch of his lips was soft and tender. It grew and deepened until he was holding her so tightly and kissing her so completely that it felt never-ending. God, she loved him. His hands roamed, hers searched, they learned each other’s backs and shoulders as they tightened their grips on each other. Turning each other this way and that underneath the water, pressing her back at one point onto shockingly cold tiles, the heat of his erection searing her stomach.
Slowly, without her realising what he was doing at first, he loosened his grip and pulled away, putting a few inches between their bodies. He turned the lever and the water stopped. Her breath shuddered with anticipation.
‘I want you, Etienne,’ she said again. ‘I want all of you.’
He led her by the hand out of the shower and she saw his eyes flick over her body, the clench of his jaw.
‘I want you too,’ he said, voice rough. ‘But not tonight, Bella.’
She growled low in her throat and he laughed. Pulling one of her fluffy white bath towels from the rail, he wrapped her in it and began to rub her shoulders, her arms, her breasts. She felt her body strain for him, but he calmly smiled that half-smile and continued to dry her.
‘You only have a few days left,’ he said. ‘We can wait. And I’m not going to make it harder for you.’
She growled again in frustration.
‘Although it’s hard for me too,’ he said, tucking the towel around her. ‘Very hard indeed.’ He took her hand and wrapped it around his cock, holding it there against the throb and heat for a second. She gasped. He removed her hand and she groaned.
‘Tonight, I’m going to make this easy for you. . .’ Etienne continued, leading her from the bathroom to her bedroom and sitting her on the end of her bed. She wanted to pull him onto her, to wrap her legs around his body. But he sank to his knees in front of her instead.
‘I’m going to make this easy for you to enjoy.’
Etienne tugged at the towel and it fell away. He knelt before her and his tongue flicked his bottom lip as he swept his eyes over her breasts, her belly and down. Running his hands lightly over her, he pushed her backwards on the bed so that she lay flat on her back with her knees off the end. She reached her hands above her head, holding on to the bed sheets.
‘I’m going to make it easy for you to come. . .’
Etienne put his hands on her knees. Her stomach flipped over.
‘And then you’re going to rest. . .’
His hands gently eased her knees apart until she knew he was staring right at her most secret part.
‘And then you’re going to sleep.’
She wasn’t listening any more. Her breathing was ragged already and his fingers were only skimming her inner thighs, heading inwards to where she wanted them so badly. Holding her legs wide now, he parted her lips and she realised how wet she was. His fingers stroked the slickness, dipped inside her and then again, one finger, then two. And she arched her back on the bed at the penetration, wanting more.
Then, nothing.
He withdrew.
Isabella’s whole body throbbed with longing. With the need to be touched, kissed, filled. She writhed on her sheets, creasing the cotton between her fists.
