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“I will. I know for a fact you can be very gentle when you want to be.”
Twisting around, his lips find mine, and my hands tangle in his hair. It seems like forever since I’ve been with him. Three weeks in a medically induced coma is a long time to be out of the loop.
He leans back against the sink, his eyes full of need, and I lift the hem of his shirt. My fingers skim his abs and chest as I pull it over his head. Gently, I kiss his chest, flicking my tongue against his skin. He tastes heavenly.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers in a husky tone, his voice full of promise.
Everything south of my navel clenches in anticipation. “Come on.”
He shimmies out of his pants and we step into the shower. The warm water relaxes my muscles, the steam clearing my lungs. Standing under the stream of water, letting it soak my hair and skin is like shedding a part of myself.
This is nice.
Blake’s hands skim my backside, moving around my hips and up my stomach. Pulling me against him, his lips tease my shoulder and neck, my body responding like a puppet to his touch. He gently pinches my nipples and I moan, grinding my ass against his erection.
His right hand cups my throat, holding me still, while his other one massages my sex. My nerves are alight with desire and I squirm under his touch.
“Hold still, baby,” he smiles against my neck, slipping two fingers inside me.
I moan as he moves them in and out, slow and methodical, pressing against my clit with his thumb each time. I run my nails down his arm, moaning, my hips moving in time with his sensual assault. He stays at a steady rhythm and the pressure builds in my groin, my legs stiffening.
He nips my earlobe and I come, calling out his name, my knees giving out.
He wraps his arms around me, holding me upright as I simper, shaking with aftershocks. Turning me gently, he presses my body against the cold wall, trapping me with his hips. His tongue moves across my skin, tickling and teasing from my neck to my breasts, my stomach and back.
Hitching my leg around his hip, I moan as Blake fills me, swiveling his hips to hit my sweet spot. My back arches and he slowly pulls out and sinks into me again.
“Lily,” he says, his breath tickling my ear.
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to wait to marry you anymore.” He pulls out and sinks into me . . . again.
My body tenses, the pressure building for a second time. It’s hard to form a coherent thought like this, lost in him.
“Blake,” I moan.
“When, Lily?” He swivels his hips, tormenting me, sharp pangs of pleasure gripping my body.
“Whenever you want. Whatever you want.”
His mouth finds mine and he moves in and out of me settling into a slow, even rhythm. His muscles flex under my hands as my desire climbs. He trails his tongue along my jaw and nips my earlobe, sending me over the edge.
“Fuck me,” I hiss, coming hard around him as he finds his release, cradling me against his chest.
†††
An hour later, I slide under the cool sheets of our bed, finally back in our original room, together, the way it should be. He stands next to the bed and holds out two white pills and a glass of water.
“What’s this?”
“Pain meds. Dr. Monroe says you should take them.”
Taking a deep breath, I shake my head. “No. I’ll be fine. I feel much better than I should.”
“Lily, for once, can you just do what you’re told?”
His tone is not to be argued with. I swallow the pills and down the glass of water, smiling as I hand it back to him. He grins, sliding into bed next to me. Gently, he pulls me over and I lay my head on his chest, stroking my finger across his skin.
