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She tilted her head back and sighed, sinking into the feather-light caress. “Good.” She stepped back as much as she could in the confined space—a few inches at the most—and poured a small dollop of soap into her palm. She set the bottle aside, rubbed her palms together to distribute and warm the body wash, and then slid around him. Her breasts rested against his back, and he groaned and leaned into her.
She glided her hands easily up his chest, with the suds. His scent mixed with her soap. Combined with the steam in the room, it pulled her into a pleasant state of mind, where she could imagine they were the only two people in the world and her concerns about thousands of miles and the end of the weekend didn’t matter.
She soaped over his shoulders and across the back of his neck, memorizing every line of definition as she went. When she slid down his back and over his ass, he let out a low groan. She moved her hands to his legs and worked her way back up.
He inhaled sharply when she brushed his erection. The water streamed over them, as she gently caressed the skin, covering every area and stroking him at the same time. He bucked back into her when she cupped his sack. She massaged and cleaned, letting the steady, artificial rain wash everything away. His breath came in short gasps.
“Not yet.” She moved away from his cock. She reached his stomach again, and he grabbed her wrists and spun to face her.
He dipped his head until his mouth hovered inches away from her ear. “I’m not as patient as you. Remember?”
She nodded. She also remembered his take-command tone, and she swore it stroked the ache between her legs until the sensation was a dull roar for attention. He pressed her against the wall, and her body slid against his. She was soaked between her legs, and it had nothing to do with the water.
He moved both of her wrists to one of his hands, and grasping them tightly, he pinned her arms over her head. He crushed his mouth to hers, swallowing her cries of surprise and arousal. He moved his free hand to her stomach, and then lower.
Her pulse raced through her veins at the strength in his grip. He set his foot between hers and pushed her legs apart. His fingers reached her pussy, and she gasped when he slid between her slick folds.
He sucked on her neck, working his teeth and tongue over her soft flesh. She gasped and arched her back when he found her swollen clit. He stroked her sex hard, while he ravaged her with his mouth. His stiff shaft ground against her hip, while he pushed so many other buttons at the same time.
She was only vaguely aware of rocking against him, as her climax built. He shoved two fingers inside her, and the sudden sensation of being spread open tore through her. Screams of pleasure ripped from her, as she came, leaving her hoarse.
Molly’s legs wobbled beneath her.
He dropped her arms, and they fell limply by her sides. He fisted her hair and yanked her head back, to kiss her hard again. Lust and desperation darkened his crooked smile when he pulled back and locked his gaze on hers. He tugged her down.
She took the hint and dropped to her knees in front of him. He wrapped his hand around his shaft and thrust his hips. She took his length in her mouth, and slid up and down.
Brandon grunted and swayed his hips against her face. Fingers still wrapped in her hair, he helped her keep the rhythm.
She traced her tongue up the side of his cock and over the head every time she bobbed up and back down. She moaned against his skin when his pace increased.
She cupped his balls, kneading the skin. He thrust faster, groans coming in short, clipped breaths now. She looked up and met his gaze. Three weeks ago, she couldn’t have imagined herself doing something like this, but during their phone conversations, she’d learned a lot about what she was—and wasn’t—comfortable vocalizing. She pulled away long enough to say, “Come for me? I want to taste you.” She glided her tongue down his shaft again.
His grip on her hair tightened, and his thrusting became frantic. A warm saltiness spurted against the back of her throat, and he let out a final groan and relaxed.
He tilted to the side, resting his shoulder against the wall of the shower, and held out his hand. Molly gripped it, and he pulled her to her feet. Water still spilled around them, erasing the tension in her limbs but calling to the exhaustion from the long week.
He kissed her lightly, laying a series of pecks across her lips and chin. His voice was soft, almost vanishing in the roar of the pipes. “Maybe we should really get clean now.”
“I suppose.” She leaned into him, forehead against his chest. The entire moment felt so natural. So comfortable. Why couldn’t it stay that way longer?
* * * *
MOLLY’S HEAD ROSE ANDfell with Brandon’s chest. His breathing became steady at least an hour ago; he had to be asleep.
But rest was nowhere to be found for her. The doubts she had before he showed up raced back in force. What were they doing? Sex once a month, in random hotels? A couple of lurid messages exchanged in between? That wasn’t the relationship she wanted.
She rolled onto her back. There was a connection between them that went deeper than sex, but how were they going to explore that option, with so little time together? It didn’t seem possible.
“What’s wrong?” His sleep-filled question drifted through the room. The mattress shifted, and a few seconds later his face appeared in front of hers.
She didn’t want to do this right now. She was drained, and he was exhausted after travelling all day. She shook her head. “Insomnia. I’ll be fine.”
He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “Tell me.”
No. It could wait. They’d talk about it in the morning. They had all weekend. But her mouth had other ideas. “What are we doing?”
His brows knit together, and he stared at her for a moment before responding. “Talking? Not sleeping?”
