Page 65 of Caretaker

He stepped into the shower and I sat there watching him soap his body as the water rinsed the remaining blood away. Miriam had sprayed him down before he’d left the table, but it hadn’t been enough. He needed to wash her off his body, as well.

Two minutes later I surprised him by climbing into the shower with him.

I shrugged, then grinned. “I need a shower, too. Do you mind?”

His slow smile was full of pure masculine appreciation. “No.”

He came to me, and for a second I was afraid he was about to take his chances, throw me against the shower wall and slam himself inside me. I might not have argued.

But he stopped just short of touching me. His stare was dark and sharp, his lips parted, his sex hot and hard and so very, very tempting.

The tip of his erection touched me once and he hissed and jerked away, as though that touch had burned him. Likely, it had.

He rested his hands against the wall on either side of my head, and slowly he lowered his mouth to mine, almost touching my lips with his. Almost.

I moaned, unable to help it. If I pursed my lips, I could have kissed him. If I slid my tongue out, just a tiny, tiny bit, I could have tasted him.

He bent his knees, sliding his hands down the tile, taking his lips away from mine. I rested my head against the wall and closed my eyes as he blew on my skin. His breath was warm, but goosebumps covered my body.

Desire, sweet and melting, grew into fierce, hot lust. I welcomed it. I couldn’t do anything else. My heart thumped against my ribs, hard and fast, and I looked down at him.

His mouth lingered at my breasts, and he blew on a wet, stiff nipple, making me cry out. I arched my back, urging him to take it into his mouth. But he could not.

He dropped to his knees, his face level with my groin, as water beat at his back.

“Clayton,” I whispered.

I felt like I’d been running for miles. My chest rose and fell as I exhaled rapid, shaky breaths, unable to get enough air into my lungs.

“Spread your legs,” he said, watching me.

I moved my feet apart and he half smiled, his eyes glittering.

He said nothing, just knelt there, staring up at me, waiting. There was magic in his eyes and in the air between us. I could almost feel him touching whatever his stare caressed. When he breathed upon my skin, I felt him kissing me, licking me.

I slid my hand over my belly, then dipped my fingers between my thighs.

And he dropped his gaze to watch.

He watched me for just a few seconds before he stood, grabbed the hand-held sprayer from its bracket, and then adjusted the setting to pulse. Hard pulse.

I gasped and then lost my breath when he knelt once more and turned that pounding water stream on me.

I slid down the wall and opened my legs and he knelt there between them, playing the water over my body, and it was almost, almost as strong as his stare, his lust, his need. His strong hands weren’t on my body, but I could close my eyes and there he was, touching me, holding me, loving me.

“I would give anything to be inside you right now.”

His voice was raw, deep, full of emotion, and I opened my eyes to look at him. I was sure everything I felt was in my face because his stare softened, and I could almost see something inside him shift.

I smiled as my orgasm prepared to shatter me. “You are.”

Enclosed in that small space, hidden from the world inside a waterfall, I fell in love with Clayton Wilder.

Then I stiffened, crying out as that pounding water beat against me, unable to look away from him, whispering his name as I came. And afterward, I got to my knees and knelt beside him, and we might have sat there forever, cooling water chilling our overheated skin, had not my cell phone rang.

I leapt from the shower and grabbed my phone. “Rhys?”

“I got called to a job, sweetheart. There’s takeout in the kitchen. Oh, and I stopped by Ang’s house and found your pin. You’ll need all the protection you can get tonight. There are vests in the cabinet in my study. Both of you wear one.” He paused. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”