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Chapter Twenty-Two
Coop
“After,” Aziza whispered. The word barely cut through the thickened air. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know…after.”
The heat of the air between us rose with each step closer. My breaths came deep and fast as I stood behind her. Aziza didn’t turn. She wasn’t in the frame of mind for conversation. Neither was I, really.
We’d spent four years talking, and while there still was so much we had to say to each other, right now we both wanted and needed each other on a physical level. Proof that everything we’d imagined between us was tangible, real.
With my right hand, I skimmed my fingertips purposefully forward along the curve of her waist. Sliding them across the delicate fabric of her robe, I palmed her stomach, pressing her body back flush with mine. Unable to resist the intimacy of her against me, I lingered long enough to breathe her in. But before either of us got too comfortable in the embrace, I fisted the sash of her robe and yanked. The covering snapped open, catching the ocean wind like a sail. She gasped, but followed it with an encouraging, ground out, “Yes.”
I clenched my teeth and rasped, “My sweet girl doesn’t want it sweet, does she?” I gathered her hair, spiraling the silken strands into a rope before methodically wrapping my fist like a boxer.
“Not tonight,” she conceded.
“Good. I have no intention or ability to take it easy on you.”
She gulped. Then, so tentative it bordered on cute, she asked, “Will I need a safe word?”
I schooled the smile from my lips. With a taut pull, I brought her head slowly back, until her chin jutted up. “Do you want one, precious girl?”
“No,” she admitted, pushing the word out like it was a plea.
She attempted to turn her head enough to make eye contact, perhaps to assess the seriousness in my eyes, but I kept hold of her hair and snarled, “Hands on the rail. Look forward.”
She did as told, while a trill of excitement scattered goosebumps across her bare arms. I swallowed, stunned to have confirmation that she felt the same intensity for me. She was the first woman who brought out this need to possess. Maybe because the only thing Aziza had ever submitted to was her feelings for me. And that made me the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole fucking world.
I’d long suspected she’d tired herself out on being in control. As strong a woman as I knew her to be, I also caught the signs that she didn’t relish delegating—or being in charge of others. She’d resigned herself to the role simply because nine times out of ten she had no choice. OZ controlled her and secrets had to be kept. But the task of making her body insanely happy was one job I was more than eager to take the lead on.
I released the tension on her hair, flipping the rope of black over her shoulder. Gripping the neck of her robe, I stripped the covering from her as if it disgusted me and tossed it aside.
“All these years of watching you…”
Edging my booted foot between her legs, I nudged one of her bare feet out.
“…wanting you…”
I gave her other foot more of a bump to ensure her stance was nice and wide.
“…planning all the things I wanted to do to you…”
Her sleep shorts hung loose off her hips, the silk billowing like laundry on a line. The wide leg holes slashed so high on the sides they flashed her ass cheeks. I stepped back, appreciating the way the thin crotch fluttered between her thighs.
“…and I never even knew what you looked like under all those clothes.”
I drew my finger up her spine, then wrapped the nape of her neck in a firm clasp. “Down,” I instructed, bending her at the waist.
She took her chin to the railing, like a pirate locked in a pillory.
“Show me.” I kept my voice gruff, as if nothing about this pleased me. One look at my raging hard-on would tell a whole different story. Making sure my voice threatened discipline, I growled, “Now, precious girl. If you don’t show me, how will I know where it’s okay to touch you?”
After her initial hesitation, she realized what I was asking and thrust her ass up and back, giving me proper visual access.
I stepped back to admire the view of her pretty pussy. The breeze kept teasing the thin slip of silk back and forth across her shiny slit. My cock throbbed as it leaked pre-cum, but I held back from ripping my fly open and burying myself in her.
“We’ve had a lot of late-night conferences, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen these clothes on you, Presh.” My taciturn tone implied I was coldly inspecting her and finding her wanting. In actuality, it took everything I had to hold back from declaring my undying love and begging her for just a kind look in response. “Did you buy them for me?”
“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you,” she gasped, panting for air enough to form the words, even though she’d done nothing exerting.
