Page 150 of Her Wicked Plan

“My shower is always hot,” he informs me, but not in a dickish way.

He wasn’t being mean about it at all. In fact... “Are you saying that I can use your shower whenever I want?”

“As long as I join you every time you use it.” He sets the rule. I smile to myself, leaning over to grab the shampoo. “I want to do it.”

I squeeze the contents into my hand. “Do what?”

“Wash your hair.”

My eyes leave the shampoo in my hand and fly to his face. He wants to wash my hair? No man has ever even thought of wanting to do that. “Maybe next time if you’re a good boy.”

He groans as his knuckles whiten from his grip on the counter.

I continue to wash my hair, lathering the shampoo deep into my scalp before rinsing and doing it all over again. After the second rinse, I realize he had been watching me intently, as if he were taking notes on how I wash my hair for the time he may do it himself.

Applying conditioner to my ends, I see a razor sitting in the little cubby on the wall. I pick it up and show it to Leo, asking without words if I can use it.

He tells me yes with a nod.

I’m careful when I shave, not wanting to cut myself because, believe it or not, that shit hurts. I hum to myself, a song I’m not sure I even know, might be making it up as I go. I sense Leo’s heated gaze on me the whole time, watching the stroke of the razor. He is most likely hoping I don’t do anything stupid.

Now, why would I do that? There are too many important things I need to see through.

Like distracting the beautiful man supervising my shower.

After rinsing the razor off, I set it back in its spot. Noticing his body wash sitting on the little ledge, I wanted so badly to use it, but if I did, I’d smell like him.

The idea has my body heating more at the thought of his scent on me. Too bad it can’t happen. It would draw too much attention. Instead, I grab my shampoo again and squeeze a decent amount in the palm of my hand.

This will have to do.

I take my time washing myself, occasionally glancing at Leo to gauge his reaction. His jaw is tense as he watches how my hands roam over my body.

He said he wanted to wash my hair, but I’m sure he will also do the honors of washing my entire body the next time I'm in here.

After rinsing off, I shift my body to face Leo, my back meeting the cool tile wall. I place my hands over my stomach before running them upwards.

They slide over my breasts easily, thanks to the water, and I gently squeeze each of them while I watch his eyes dilate. His chest rises and falls uncontrollably as I pinch my nipple between my fingers.

A soft moan leaves me while I continue to pinch and tug at the sensitive spot. My other hand travels down, gliding over my stomach again until my finger touches my clit. I hiss at the sensation of both my fingers working their magic. I want so badly to shut my eyes, to relish in the bliss, but I stare at Leo’s impatient expression.

He isn’t sure where to look. The hand on my breast? The fingers circling my clit? Or is it my face, the way my jaw is slack as it all feels too good? Yes, I want him to be the one touching me, but if I do this, if I’m the one in charge, then I’m prolonging him slipping back into his dark thoughts.

“Leo.” His name slips from my mouth in a whimper, making the impatient man push off the counter to come to the opening of the shower. I stop the movements of my hand, shaking my head. He halts, emitting an annoyed breath as his large hands grip the glass surrounding the shower.

“You’re testing my patience, little angel,” he warns with a heavy tone. I can’t help but bite my lips to stop the smile from spreading across my face.

“Am I?” My finger drifts lower between my legs, and I’m pushing it inside of me. In and out. Slow and steady while he watches.

His eyes fall on how my finger disappears inside of me. I leave it in, curling the digit to hit that sweet spot, but I come up short. It’s not long enough. When I raise my eyes to Leo standing a couple of feet away, he flashes me a knowing smirk.

“Doesn’t feel the same as when I do it.” He lets out a quiet laugh. “How are you going to make yourself come when you can’t even reach the spot that drives you crazy?”

“I’ll find a way.” I won’t, and I know it. I attempt to dip my finger deeper but still can’t reach the spot he touches so sweetly.

“You need me, Vee,” he declares, full certainty in his voice. “You want to hit that sweet orgasm? Those pretty fingers of yours aren’t going to do the trick.” One of his feet steps into the shower, followed by the other. I narrow my eyes at warning him not to come closer, but he doesn’t listen. He stands in front of me, eyes roaming over my wet body while his tongue darts out and coasts across his lips.

Slowly, his hand lifts and wraps around my throat, bringing my head off the wall, my mouth ghosting over his. “Your pride won’t let you win this. Admit that you need me.”