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I release a shaky sigh. Can I do this? Can I walk into that shower knowing she’s naked? She was right, we’ve done it once before, but this time is different. The vibe in here is different. I barely kept my shit together the last time. I’m not so sure I’ll be able to a second time.
I know what she wants, but am I the man to give it to her? Can I be the person she needs to explore a sexual relationship? Lord fucking knows I don’t deserve to be that man, but fuck if I can think about another man with her. It makes me want to bash my head through the goddamn wall. No one will ever be good enough for her, no matter how saintly he is.
Why has she chosen me? Why has fate thrown us together? If I wasn’t who I was and hadn’t done the things I’ve done to her, I’d grab a hold of her and never let go. I’d give her every reason to want to stay and love me just as much as I love her.
And I do love her. I don’t know when it happened, but some time or another it’s changed from the brotherly love I used to feel for her to this new soul-deep kind of love that takes my fucking breath away.
I just wish our pasts weren’t what they were.
I push away my conflicting thoughts for now and reach for the snap on my jeans. I’m covered in blood and want the shit off me. To say Deacon was torn to shreds by the time I got done with him would be putting it mildly. There wasn’t an inch of skin left on him that wasn’t newly marked. Over half of his blood is now soaking into the wooden floor of the lodge, not to mention the amount that’s all over my clothes.
I peel off my jeans and toss them to the side to be burned later. Grabbing the shower door handle, I pull it open, and a billow of fog hits my face. Again, my treacherous eyes find Rella immediately. She’s under the spray, her long hair falling over her shoulders and plastered against her skin. The strands cover her breasts, but her nipples peek out. My mouth fucking waters with the desperate need to latch my lips around the hard, little peaks.
My eyes travel down her slim stomach, over her flared hips, and lock on the dark curls at the top of her mound.
Shit, this was a bad idea.
When my eyes move back up to meet hers, I find her watching me just as closely. Her arms are hanging by her sides, but I still notice the trembling in her hands, giving away her nervousness.
She grabs a rag off the shelf and clutches it in her tight fist.
“Can… can I wash you?”
And have her hands all over my body? Even with the barrier of the rag between us, it’ll be blissful at the same time torturous.
Even so, I jerk my head up in a nod. A smile touches her lips, barely enough to notice.
She grabs the bottle of body wash. “Turn around.”
Grinding my molars, I turn and give her my back. I suck in a breath when the rag touches my shoulders. I can feel the indent of her fingers, and I wish it was her bare flesh touching me. With slow movements, she glides the rag to the other shoulder, then down the rest of my back. She takes her time, massaging the soap into my skin as she washes every inch she comes across. She pauses when she reaches the top of my glutes, but it only lasts a moment before she begins moving again. My muscles tense because it feels so damn good to have her cleaning me. She squats as she moves past my ass and down one leg, then the other.
I feel her standing behind me, but I don’t turn around.
“Aziah,” she calls softly.
I close my eyes for a moment before I turn and face her, making sure to keep enough room between us so my rock-hard shaft doesn’t touch her.
She smiles at me as she grabs my arm and takes the rag to it. Her eyes move to her task, but I keep mine on her, unable to look away from the beautiful woman in front of me. Dropping my arm, she moves to the next, her gaze remaining focused and intent. Once she’s finished, she lays the rag on my chest and works it over one pec to the other. My ab muscles bunch.
This is a new experience for me. One I’m finding I really fucking like and already know I’ll want to do thousands of times.
My breath gets stuck in my throat, and I throw out a hand over her shoulder to the shower wall to hold myself up when she guides the rag over my lower stomach. I tip my head back and gulp in air. My cock throbs and jerks.
I wait with part anticipation and part anxiety for her to wash the part of me that’s straining toward her, so I’m momentarily surprised when she totally bypasses my cock and bends down to wash the front of my legs. Looking down, knowing I’m right there bobbing in her face and preparing to apologize, I’m met with the top of her bent head as she looks down to my feet.
As if feeling my eyes on her, she lifts her head, her eyes landing on my cock for only a second before they meet mine. Heat blossoms on her cheeks.
With our eyes still locked together, she slowly glides the rag back up my leg. I ball my hand into a fist and press it against my thigh when she doesn’t stop until her knuckles hit my balls. I bare my teeth and hiss out a breath, hoping she stops, but secretly praying she doesn’t. My forbidden prayers are answered when she wraps the rag around my length and begins a slow glide back and forth. I almost lose it when the rag falls from her hand and her bare fingers grip my rock hard flesh.
“Rella,” I groan deep in my throat and squeeze my eyes shut. “Fuck.”
Her hand feels like heaven, and I know I won’t last if she keeps touching me. This is so fucking wrong. I can’t let this happen, especially with her on her knees. She should never be on her knees for any man.
Opening my eyes, I wrap my hand around hers, stopping her movements. She looks up at me, her brows furrowed.
“We gotta stop,”
I tell her hoarsely.
