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The moment the door closes behind us in our room, Luke turns back to me, grinning. “That was very impressive, earlier.” He reaches up to brush a strand of hair back from my forehead. “I had no idea you were such a naughty girl, wife.”
“Well, you must have married me for a reason,” I reply, smiling back. There’s a flash in his eyes for a moment, some kind of emotion I can’t read. It makes my cheeks flush, suddenly worried I said the wrong thing. “I mean, fake married, of course.”
“Of course,” he replies, his expression still dark, inscrutable. Then he drops his hand from my shoulder, only to take my hand instead. “Come on. We’d better get you dirty again.” He tugs me toward the bathroom.
I grin, trailing after him. “Don’t you mean clean?”
He flashes me a heated look over his shoulder. “Not at all.”
Inside the bathroom, he strips me down. I pull his trunks off, too, and it’s immediately obvious that he’s already hard again. Damn. Man has stamina, I’ll grant him that. He notices me notice, and smirks. “I must admit, you have quite the effect on me, Celia.” He steps closer and slips one hand between my legs to cup my bare pussy, still dripping wet from the pool, and probably from renewed lust, too. After all, we spent a whole elevator ride up here in proximity to one another. Apparently just his scent is enough to make me horny now.
“You do the same thing to me,” I whisper.
His fingers tighten, one slipping between my pussy lips. “I can see that.” He draws his hand back and holds it to my lips. Obedient, I suck his finger between my lips and trail my tongue along his length. I can taste my own juices, sweet mingled with a hint of salt from his fingertips. I keep my eyes locked on his as I do, and swirl my tongue along the base of his finger suggestively.
“You really are a sex-kitten, aren’t you, love?” His smile widens, his eyes taking on that dark, hungry expression that makes me shiver with anticipation. My stomach flips when he says the word love. Even though I know he doesn’t mean it, even though I know this is a temporary arrangement, I can’t help it. I’ve thought that about him too often, for too long, to miss the word now.
“You could say that,” I reply, trying to hide the quiver in my voice, and not quite succeeding.
Then he draws his fingertip away and turns on the shower, piping hot, enough to raise steam from the water. It begins to fog the mirrors as he tugs me into the shower with him. “At least this little kitty doesn’t mind getting wet.” He smirks and runs his hands over my body as the heated shower water cascades over me.
I reach for him too, unable to keep my hands off of him for long. I trace my hands down across the washboard plane of his abs until I reach the V of muscles that lead my fingers down to his cock. He’s hard as a rock already, even after our rendezvous in the jacuzzi. I have a feeling Luke could keep me going for a very, very long time tonight. And I have to admit, I am not at all opposed to the idea.
I slide my hands around the base of his shaft, marveling yet again at how thick he is, how strong he feels. There’s a solid layer of steel beneath the smooth velvet glide of his cock, and I stroke my hands along it, tracing the veins along the sides, the tight seam underneath. He sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, and I smile up at him from beneath my eyelashes.
“Do you remember what I told you about tonight, wife?” he asks.
I glance down between us at the reminder. Don’t get me wrong, I love how even when we’re alone he still calls me that. And I love even more seeing the huge rock of a ring he gave me still on my finger, even as I start to stroke my hands back and forth, up and down the length of his shaft in a slow, rocking motion. It does something to my insides, makes me hotter than hell just imagining what it would feel like to be Mrs. Rossfield for real. Not just for the weekend, but forever.
“Um…” I realize he’s still waiting for an answer. I think back over everything he’s said to me so far today. But it’s been a long day, and there are a lot of things I don’t want to forget, all warring for attention in my mind. Not least of which is his voice, soft and steady, telling me to come for him earlier tonight. I suppress a shiver. Then I remember what he must mean. “That you’re competitive?” I glance sideways, toward the wall that separates our room from Paul and Meghan’s.
