“What are you doing?” she says.
I laugh and reach for her. “You came in here.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to look pleased with yourself.”
She’s not dressed for seduction. She never is. That’s part of the problem. I imagine her in one of those dresses she wears when she’s trying not to be noticed, or in nothing at all, hair loose, face set in that annoyed look she gets when she wants me and resents me for making it easy.
I kiss her again, deeper this time, backing her into the tile. Water beats over both of us, running down her shoulders, her stomach, the soft, full curves of her body. I get both hands on her, one at her waist, one sliding down over her hip and thigh, and she shivers when I touch her like that, like she’s been waiting for it too.
My mouth drops to her throat. I suck at the pulse there, bite lightly, and she gasps and arches into me. Her breasts dragagainst my chest, wet and warm, and I groan because I can feel how perfectly she fits there.
“Roman,” she says.
The way she says my name in here, with the water and the steam and her body opening under my hands makes me hard instantly.
She’s already wet.
I laugh once, low in my throat, and she flushes all over even under the heat of the water.
She moans against me.
I push one finger through her anyway, feeling how slick she’s for me, how easily she opens. Her eyes flutter shut. Her head tips back against the tile. I watch every second of it.
“You came in here like this?” I ask.
“You know why I came in here.”
I add a second finger and her hands tighten on my shoulders. Good. I want her holding on to me. I want her worked up and wet and furious that I know exactly what I’m doing to her.
I kiss her while I finger her, slow at first, then harder when I feel her body start to chase it. She moans into my mouth, soft but helpless, and I swallow the sound because the apartment is too quiet, and I want all of it for myself.
My hand leaves her long enough to lift one leg around my waist.
Then the other.
I pin her to the wall with my body, my cock dragging right where she’s most sensitive, and she cries out at the pressure. I’m sohard it hurts. She feels it, rolls her hips once, and that’s enough to make me lose what little control I had left.
“You keep doing that,” I say against her throat, “and this ends quickly.”
“Then maybe do it quicker,” she pants.
I laugh because that’s exactly like her, and then I get my hand between us and line myself up.
She feels the head of my cock press against her and goes still for one hot, suspended second.
I look at her.
Water runs over her lashes, her mouth, the hollow of her throat. She looks wrecked already and I haven’t even pushed in.
“Tell me to stop,” I say.
She grabs my face with both hands and kisses me instead.
I push inside her slowly, and we both groan at the same time. She’s tight, hot, wet as hell, and the feel of her taking me after all the nights I’ve spent thinking about it nearly sends me over right there. I stop halfway and press my forehead to hers, breathing hard, trying not to embarrass myself.
I bury myself the rest of the way and her whole body opens under me. Her mouth falls open. Her nails bite into my shoulders. The water keeps running over us, making everything slicker, hotter, louder.
Then I start moving.
