My stomach tightens. "When?" I think I would have remembered, the man is hot.
"Your father's Christmas party, four years ago. You wore a green dress and stood by the window for most of the night because you didn't know anyone, and your father didn't bother to introduce you. You drank two glasses of wine and left before midnight."
He’s right. I remember the green dress and staring out the window, counting down the hours till I could leave. I remember feeling utterly invisible because no one wanted anything to do with me. The guys my age were more interested in other girls, not me, but I don’t remember seeing him.
"You were there?"
"Yes, I spent the entire night watching you," he confesses.
“You did? Why did you not talk to me then?”
“I … I didn’t think you would be interested.”
I turn around and look at him, the man who looks like a Greek god. “I would have been,” I answer him softly.
He runs his thumb across my cheek. “But you’re not now?”
I don’t know how to answer that, so I don’t. "Where else?"
He doesn’t push that question. "You came in to drop off paperwork to him at his office. You had a coffee from that place on Fifth with the blue awning. You were wearing a white shirt, jeans, and you smiled at the receptionist on your way out."
My skin prickles under the hot water. "How do you remember all of that?"
"Because I was paying attention." His hand moves under the water and rests on my hip. "Because I've been paying attention for a long time."
"How long have you been paying attention?"
He doesn't answer.
"Kairo," I push.
"Long enough to know that you deserve better than what I've given you." His thumb traces a slow circle on my hip bone. "And long enough to know I'm not capable of letting you go."
"You scare me," I tell him.
This makes him frown, and I think he might be slightly offended. "I know," he says sadly, and I don’t like how that makes me feel.
"But you confuse me more than any person I've ever met."
This earns him a slight smile. "I know that too."
“I don’t understand how you feel about me. I thought you hated me, but … you said you don’t. You made a stranger eat your cum from me, but then you saved me from the cliff. You’ve made me sit on a dildo during dinner, but then I’ve noticed inthe library you have all my favorite books, and the clothes in the closet are my size and style and …”
He's quiet for a moment and then confesses, "You turn me on in a way I can't switch off. I've tried, fuck how I have tried, but it doesn't work. Nothing works. You fight me, every single time. You don't break the way I expected. You spit at me, hit me, run from me, and yet you're still here." His thumb keeps tracing circles. "Nobody has ever done that." His voice drops lower. "You're the most infuriating, stubborn, beautiful woman I've ever seen, and I have no idea what to do with you, except keep you."
Oh.
Wow, that’s a lot to take in, but I appreciate his honesty. He is the most infuriating person I’ve ever met, and as much as I fight him and he tries to break me, I think I like that he tries to break me. The way he takes what he wants from me, I see the hunger in his eyes when he looks at me. No one in my life has ever looked at me like I’m worthy. My hand moves under the water without thinking, and I find him, he's already hard. He’s thick and heavy against my palm. He inhales sharply, his hips shift, and I feel the response run through his whole body. A sharp breath, a tightening of his stomach muscles, his hand gripping the edge of the tub. Water sloshes over the sides and onto the marble. He's looking up at me, and for once, the control is gone. His hands are on the sides of the tub, not on me. He's not commanding, not directing, not taking, he's waiting and watching to see what I am going to do next.
I don’t think, I feel, and decide to climb onto his lap and straddle him. My knees press into the porcelain on either side of his hips, and I reach between us to hold him before I sink down slowly. So slowly that my mouth falls open, as does his, and neither of us makes a sound except the water lapping against the sides. He fills me completely, the stretch, the depth,the way my body adjusts around him. But there's no pain this time, no punishment and no force, just fullness and warmth and the feeling of his heart beating fast under my palms where they rest on his chest. I roll my hips slowly, and his hands come up to my waist. They don't grip me, they hold, gently, like I might disappear if he squeezes too hard.
I move like that for a long time, languid rolls of my hips, rising and sinking with the rhythm of the water. Every motion sends soft ripples across the surface of the bath as the steam curls around us. His cock slides so deep inside me on every downstroke that I feel him in my belly, thick and hot and perfectly fitted.
Kairo’s head tips back against the edge of the tub, lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches me ride him. His thumbs trace slow circles on my waist, then slide up to cup my breasts with aching reverence. He doesn’t pinch or tug, he just holds them, thumbs brushing lightly over my hardened nipples until I shiver and moan softly. The sound seems to undo him. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine, our breaths mingling in the steam. One of his hands slides up my back, fingers threading gently through my damp hair as he pulls me into a slow, deep kiss. His tongue strokes mine lazily, tasting, savoring, like he’s trying to memorize every second of this. I roll my hips again, grinding down on him in a slow circle, and he groans into my mouth, low, rough, and needy. The vibration travels straight through me.
We stay like that, moving together in the warm water. There’s no rush, no violence or anger, just slick, sensual friction and the quiet sounds of our breathing as the water laps against the sides of the tub.
Every time I sink down, he meets me with a gentle upward roll of his hips, pushing a little deeper, a little sweeter. My pleasure builds, and I rest my forehead against his, eyes locked,breathing the same air as the tension coils tighter and tighter inside me.
