AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The pressure around my ribcage eases more with every word he speaks. I do believe him. Maybe it’s naïve, but I trust Marcus not to lie to me—which is why I asked him about this rather than stewing, worrying, and covertly snooping around on my own. “Okay.”
“Okay?” His thick eyebrows pull together. “What does that mean, ‘okay?’”
“It means I believe you.” This probably merits a longer discussion, but without the specter of Emmeline throwing cold water on my libido, I’m acutely conscious of the fact that we’re both naked in a steamy shower stall and he’s still partially aroused—and that he brought that bottle of lube with him for some reason.
His frown doesn’t abate. “Just like that?” He advances on me, powerful muscles bunched tight. “You believe me?”
I swallow and back away, retreating instinctively in the face of all that intense male nakedness. “Well, yes.” The rapid beating of my pulse intensifies as my back presses against the glass wall of the stall and he places his palms on either side of me, caging me between his outstretched arms. “Should I not?”
Marcus’s gaze darkens, and he dips his head to my ear. “You should. There are no other women for me, kitten, no one else I’m remotely interested in.” His voice is soft and deep, his breath hot on my wet skin as he licks the outer rim of my ear before grazing the earlobe with his teeth. “You’re all I want, Emma, all I’ve ever wanted—even if I didn’t always know it.”
As he speaks, his right hand leaves the wall and strokes down my body, gliding over my breasts and belly before slipping into the soft nook between my legs. Two of his fingers push into me, and the bolt of need that shoots through me is so intense I can’t suppress a moan. Every muscle inside me clenches, squeezing those big, rough fingers, and I shudder at the delicious friction, even as his words warm me in an entirely different way.
Does he mean it? And if he does, what does it mean for us?
I love you, Marcus. The phrase hovers on the tip of my tongue, like a bird about to dive off a cliff, but I bite it back, too scared to let it fly. As much as I want to trust him with my heart, he’s bruised it once, and it’s still healing. Instead, I reach up and pull his head toward me, telling him with a kiss what I can’t say out loud.
Letting him know that he owns my heart, owns all of me, even though the notion terrifies me.
Our lips touch with tenderness at first, our tongues gently stroking and caressing, but it doesn’t take long for the animal hunger to take over. The kiss turns rougher, more intense, even as his fingers curve inside me, pressing on a spot that makes my toes curl on the wet tile floor. With all five showerheads blasting hot water two feet from us, the air inside the stall is thick and humid, the steam condensing on the tall glass walls, and I feel like I’m in some kind of surreal sex dream, a fantasy straight out of the darkest corners of my mind.
In this forbidden fantasy of mine, I’m at the mercy of a dangerously handsome pirate, a ruthless man I both desire and despise. My body craves his scorching touch, even as my mind fights it. Yet as his free hand cups my backside, lifting me up the glass wall at my back, I have no choice but to submit to him, to his strength and overwhelming need for me… and to my own burning hunger. Moaning, I arch my neck, exposing my throat to his rough, biting kisses, and the knowledge that he won’t stop, won’t relent, is as hot as it is terrifying.
The exhaustion that seized me after dinner adds to the dream-like haze, blurring the line between fantasy and reality, melting away my fears and inhibitions. His fingers penetrate me deeper, his thumb pressing on my clit, and as my legs come up to wrap around his hips, my hands fist in his silky hair, my heart pounding madly with a violent rush of need.
“Mine. You’re all mine,” he breathes, scraping his teeth over the tender skin at the junction of my neck and shoulder, and I dissolve into a being of pure want, with liquid heat thrumming in my core and dark desire coursing through my veins. I have no thoughts, no reason, only this rapidly intensifying need, and as his thumb rubs circles on my clit, I come so hard I almost black out.
I’m still dazed when he lowers me onto my unsteady feet, then guides me toward the bench-like ledge on the other side of the stall. Gently, he arranges me in a kneeling position on the floor, with my breasts and forearms resting on the warm, damp tile of the bench and his large, hard-muscled body cocooning me from the back. My dripping hair falls forward, obscuring my vision as he reaches somewhere, and then a cool, viscous liquid drips onto the crevice between my ass cheeks, followed by a finger gliding over it.
