Page 62 of Stalkers Anonymous

“I’m very motivated.” His mouth finds the curve of my neck, and I tip my head back, letting it fall against his shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.” His hands slide lower, over my stomach, and my breath catches. “I want to take care of you. Protect you. And also do very inappropriate things to you, Hailey.”

“How inappropriate?” I challenge, turning in his arms and meeting his heated gaze.

His fingers slip between my thighs, and I gasp. “This inappropriate.”

He finds my clit with unerring accuracy, circling slowly while his other hand comes down to cup my breast. I’m pinned between the cold tile and his hot body, water streaming over both of us, and I can’t think straight. Can’t do anything but feel.

“More,” I breathe. “Please.”

He slides a finger inside me, then two, and I have to brace my hands against his chest to stay upright. His thumb keeps working my clit while his fingers curl in a way that makes stars explode behind my eyes.

“Cole—” I’m close already, but he’s been winding me up all day and I’m too far gone to be self-conscious about it. “I’m going to—”

“That’s the idea.” His voice is rough in my ear. “Let go, Hailey. I want to feel you come.”

The orgasm hits me like a wave, crashing through my body in pulses of hot pleasure. I cry out, clenching around his fingers, and he holds me through it, murmuring things I can’t quite hear over the intensity of my climax.

When I come back to myself, I’m shaking.

“That good?” he asks, and there’s a smile in his voice.

“Shut up.”

Water runs down his chest, catching in the grooves of his muscles, and I want to lick every drop of it off his skin.

Fuck it.

I do.

I start at his collarbone, tasting water and salt, and work my way down. His hands tangle in my wet hair, not pushing, just holding on. When I reach his stomach, I drop to my knees.

“Hailey—” His voice cracks. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” I look up at him through the steam, and his expression nearly undoes me. Desperate. Hungry. Like he’s barely holding on. “Let me.”

I take him in my hand first, stroking slowly, watching his face. His head falls back, the veins standing out in his neck. He’s thick and hot and already leaking at the tip, and the power of it—knowing I’m doing this to him—is intoxicating.

I lean forward and take him in my mouth.

His groan echoes off the tile, low and guttural. I start slow, working my tongue over the head, tasting him. His hand tightens in my hair but doesn’t do more than rest there, trembling with the effort of restraint.

I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, finding a rhythm that makes his hips stutter. The water is starting to cool, but I barely notice. All I notice is the weight of him on my tongue, the sounds he makes, the way his thighs shake beneath my hands.

“Hailey—fuck—I’m not going to last—”

I pull back, releasing him with a wet pop. “That good?” I hit him with his own humor, but he’s too lost in the moment to hear me.

“I want to be inside you.” His voice is throaty and desperate. “Please.”

That single word—please—makes me want him that much more. I stand, water streaming between us, and he cups my face in his hands. Cole kisses me like I’m air and he’s drowning.

“Bed,” I manage between kisses. “Condom.”

We don’t bother drying off. We stumble out of the shower, dripping everywhere, and I lead him to my bedroom. The sheets are going to be soaked, and I absolutely do not care. I grab a condom from my nightstand and hand it to him.

He tears it open with his teeth, then rolls it on while I watch with shameless appreciation. Then he’s pressing me back onto the mattress, covering my body with his, and the full-body contact makes us both groan.

“You’re sure?” he asks, positioned at my entrance.