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Chris
Derick was right. I owe him. But my brother is the last thing I want to think about at a time like this.
The door clicks closed behind us, and I study Cassie’s profile while she surveys the suite, including the Valentine’s Day package additions on the table. But those aren’t my concern at the moment. She is.
“I have something for you. Something I picked up today, too.”
She tosses me a look over her shoulder. “Besides a luxurious hotel room, a bottle of champagne, and a dozen chocolate-covered strawberries?”
“Yes.”
“How is it you’re still single again?”
Am I? Still single? If all goes well, I won’t be after tonight. Regardless of what happens atRise and Shinein the morning.
Ever since I laid eyes on her twelve hours ago, when she smiled and especially when she slipped into my arms at our dance lesson, I haven’t felt single.
I’ve felt like hers.
“Good question. Here, follow me.”
I lead her into the oversized bathroom and pat the marble vanity next to one of the sinks. “Up here, if you will.”
Her eyebrow crooks, and she bites back a smile. “Want to see it from all angles?”
It’s as if she’s addressed the question directly to my cock.
I part her knees, step between her legs, and run a hand up each thigh to her hip, my fingers gripping her flesh as I try to rein in my need for her.
I bend down and capture her lips in a kiss that leaves us both breathless, tearing away to whisper, “See what from all angles? Tell me, Cassie. Tell me what I want to see.”
She meets my gaze, and her baby blue eyes, dark with desire, narrow. “Me.”
She wraps her legs around mine and draws me closer.
“Damn straight.”
I tuck under her ass and slide her to the edge of the counter, against my rock-hard length straining in the confines of my jeans. Trailing kisses over to her ear, I growl, “I’d give anything to see you naked, your head thrown back in pleasure from all angles, believe me, but first you need some TLC.”
“That sounds like the kind of TLC I need.” A low hum of approval rolls through her as her thighs clench.
This woman is distracting as hell and I can’t get enough, but I’ve got something to take care of first.
“Believe me, in about four minutes I’m going to strip these jeans off you, sink to my knees, and indulge in the taste of you I’ve been craving all day, but first things first.”
Her chest is rising and falling with each breath as my words register, but her brow wrinkles with displeasure.
“And I have to wait four minutes, why?”
I take a deep breath and draw back, out of reach, and focus on the task at hand. It takes all my effort to put space between us as I step to the sink.
I run the water until it warms, then wash my hands and wet a washcloth, applying soap to it as well.
“Here, give me your hands.”
One at a time, I cradle her hands in mine, slowly washing each one while she watches. Although I try to be gentle, my teeth clench every time she winces. Then, after rinsing and drying them both with a fluffy white hand towel, I grab the jar of thick healing cream with Vitamin E I picked up over the counter earlier this afternoon, and massage it into her palm, and each tender finger in turn.
The only sound in the bathroom is our breath as I focus on the task, the cream slick between our skin.
