She nods, even though we both know the only thing that’s going to help her now is me.
“Do you mind if I grout the tiles? I want to make sure they’re perfect,” I ask, not wanting her to feel any more awkward than she already does.
“Could you show me instead? Then I’ll know how to do the bathroom.”
I nod, the scene fromGhostspringing to mind, as if putting my hand over hers whilst whispering all the filthy things I’m going to do to her could make her forgive me faster. I cough, shaking the image that has my pants tightening around my crotch, and start mixing the paste.
We work quietly together, moving in sync. We talk about nothing except the task at hand, and I’m thankful for the reprieve. That I have a moment to collect my thoughts and work out how to approach this properly. Once we’ve finished, she moves her hand across the final tile, wiping off the excess grout from the tiles with the precision of a Michelin-star chef, tidying up her plates. She wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, smearing another dollop of grout to join the plaster. She’s so goddamn cute likethis. The she-devil, known for spitting venom and fiercely defending her territory, has a soft side that is peeking through after years of chipping at her defenses.
“Thanks.” She grins, her wavy hair curling into tighter ringlets framing her face.
“You’re welcome, princess.”
We’re standing so close now. I can smell her coconut shampoo. I can smell the perfume she always wears. It’s invading my senses, intercepting my thoughts, and replacing them with a soft, hazy warmth.
I step back, away from the overwhelming urge to kiss her again. The next time we kiss, I want it to be because she wants it, not because she needs it. And that just isn’t going to happen. Katie Murphy could never want me; she’s made that abundantly clear. I’m not against doing what we did again to help her. Hell, I’d drop to my knees, pull out a balaclava, and fuck her with my tongue right now if she asked me to. I stop that thought dead in its tracks.
“Do you want to talk about the case?” I ask.
Her chin tilts up to mine, her eyelids dropping as her pupils dilate. She’s biting her lip.She’s biting her goddamn lip.I barely have a chance to ask her what it is that she wants to do before she scrapes her fingers through my beard, then threads them behind my neck. I inhale sharply, all blood rushing south to my cock. This is happening again. Not an alert. Because we’re fuckingon, baby. I don’t know why or how I managed to get from where we were this morning to where we are now. But I have a strong feeling that I’m going to help her renovate this entire house for her if she keeps looking at me like she is right now. And I am not going to mess it up this time. Katie Murphy is about to have her back blown and have a dreamless sleep. The best goddamn sleep she’s ever had in her life.
She pushes up on her tiptoes, and as I think her lips are about to brush mine, I instead feel the scrape of her teeth until she pulls my lower lip, biting it hard. A growl forms in my chest, and my throaty exhale snaps the last bit of restraint I have for this woman. I push her against the counter, the tools we’d been using on top in a mess. I’ll clear those up later for her. I’ll build the rest of this house for her if that’s what it takes. I’ll build her a home, somewhere cozy, somewhere she’s safe. The urge to pull down every defense is so overwhelming that it almost reeks of some mating ritual. The urge to nest with her.
My fingers tug her strands at the roots, yanking her head back so her mouth parts for me. We battle again; it’s rough, neither of us yielding to the other as our tongues battle for dominance. I’m going to win; she knows this. I know this. But the fight is so damn fun. It’s like we’ve been doing this same fight for years, and now we’re both getting the reward.
She sticks her thumb between my ribs, andI recoil just as sheer satisfaction gleams in her eyes.
I let my gaze dip down to her swollen cherry lips, one hand lightly playing at her throat. Her breath hitches as if the very threat of me squeezing incites a rush through her.
“Run.”
Her pupils narrow to pinpricks, and she wastes no time sprinting through the kitchen to the entryway, and I hear her feet racing up the stairs. I try to calm my racing heart, give her the time to hide, but after a minute, I can’t wait any longer...fuck it. I spin around the kitchen island, through the entryway, narrowly missing a pot of paint with a dried-up paintbrush balancing on top. I clutch the banister, taking the stairs two at a time, this time heading straight to Katie’s bedroom.
I let the door slam open with a bang, spot her clothes on the floor in a pile...it’s then that I hear the shower in her bathroom. The door is ajar, with maybe an inch or so in the crack that I can peek through.
Her walk-in shower makes things easier to watch. The glass panel and the unlocked, slightly open door, the only things between us. Her hair is still in its messy bun, copper strands slipping out of the band, curling down her nape. She’s lathered up, rubbing herself with a loofah, the bubbles slowly dripping between the valley of her breasts.
I strip off my shirt, then my pants, palming myself as I watch her. I’m hard already. My boxers come off next, and then I grip myself, one pump, two. Goddamn, I’m not going to last. Her hands rub the suds over her breasts, pinching her hardened nipple swiftly before moving on. A trail of bubbles slides down her taut stomach, and she squeezes the loofah onto her chest. My balls tighten, and I can barely breathe. It feels so wrong. I know she knows I’m here. But watching her like this, there’s something so unseemly about it. This is the first time I’ve seen her fully naked. The first time was fast, rough, too quick to get fully undressed. But now, this opportunity she’s given me to just stand and watch as her hand slips down her stomach and between her legs.
She’s touching herself.
The she-devil is in full force because she dips a finger inside herself, her other hand pinching her nipple as she leans her shoulders against the wall.
I choose the subtle approach this time, slipping inside the steam-filled room, the wet air clinging to my skin. I can’t keep my hand off my dick now, not for a million dollars could I stop myself whilst she gives me this view. This perfect, perfect view of her body.
Her eyes are closed, but I’m sure she knows I’m here. She’s just pretending she doesn’t. I pull open the door; the whoosh of the slide has hereyes opening, wide and frightened. She moves from her pussy to stop me, but I grab her wrist before she can press into my chest.
“What are you doing in here?” she asks shakily, despite pushing her hips toward me.
I say nothing, pulling her fingers into my mouth and sucking her arousal from her, making sure to swipe my tongue between them.
Her hooded eyes watch me cautiously, and a thick swallow bobs down her throat.
“You can’t do that. You can’t be in here,” she whispers.
I pinch my fingers around her neck, squeezing and testing the waters. A small gasp escapes her, and she starts to claw at my chest. My nose rubs against her neck, and I inhale deeply before biting down on her earlobe.
“Yes...” she whimpers, her left leg hooking around my waist. Gripping her hip, I lift her so her back is flush against the old tiles, the head of my cock lined up against her pussy, my fingers squeezing the soft flesh around her hips.
