Page 301 of A Vicious Love

Then her mouth.

She inhaled against me, fingers sliding up my wrist and over my forearm, the bathwater moving as she rose closer.

The kiss deepened slowly, because I refused to rush the first thing in years that felt honest.

Her mouth opened under mine.

I lost another part of whatever sainthood had survived the bath.

“Baby,” I murmured.

She kissed me again.

Harder this time.

She went up onto her knees in my bath and pulling me closer by my shirt.

I reached into the water and caught her under the arms.

She gasped when I lifted her out, warm water streaming down her body and soaking straight through the front of my clothes. I grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around her back, holding her against my chest while she clutched my shoulders.

“Jamison.”

“Legs around my waist, baby.”

Her legs locked around my waist, and every disciplined thought I had ever owned left the room quietly and without loyalty.

“That’s my good girl,” I murmured against her mouth.

She made a soft sound, and tightened her thighs.

My hand spread beneath her, holding her through the towel while water soaked my shirt and ran down my forearms. She clung to me, arms around my neck, mouth open under mine, trusting me to carry her.

“Jamison,” she whispered.

“No.” I kissed her again, slower this time, letting the word melt against her mouth. “Not right now.”

Her breath caught.

I felt the moment she understood what I wanted to hear, and I felt the moment she grew too shy to give it.

I set one knee on the bed and lowered her onto the sheets, keeping her against me until her back touched the mattress. The towel loosened around her. That dangerous little trust she kept handing me even after everything I had done to teach her better.

My fiancée looked up at me.

Fuck sainthood.

Overrated.

I had tried. Briefly. Admirably, given the state of that bath and the fact she had spent half an hour naked under bubbles pretending she was asking innocent questions.

But now she was spread beneath me on my bed, wet and some brutal part of me decided restraint had made its point.

She was my altar.

And I would worship willingly.

I braced one hand beside her head and lowered my mouth to her jaw. Her head tipped back at once, giving me her throat. I kissed beneath her ear first, slow, and her fingers slid into my hair.