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“Polaris,” he growled at me.
I pushed my shorts down and stepped out of them, and then into the shower.
He followed me, though his shorts remained on.
I reached for the soap.
His hand caught my wrist, pinning it and the rest of my back to the shower’s wall.
His flames burned over both of us, and he slid his hand between my thighs.
I sucked in a breath as he grabbed my core, the base of his gigantic hand pressing into my clit while his fingers found both of my entrances.
If I wasn’t into all that rough shit, I probably would’ve been shocked or uncomfortable.
As it was, I was dripping wet. And not just where the water had hit me.
I lifted my hand that wasn’t pinned to the wall up to his shoulder, needing something to hold on to.
“You belong to me,” he said, his voice low and feral. “Give me the number.”
“Tell me why you want to know,” I countered breathlessly.
“So I can learn exactly how many times I need to fuck you to erase their memories from your mind.”
Yeah, his snarl only made me hotter.
“You aren’t very good at bartering,” I told him. “You’re desperate; I could ask you for anything I want right now, and I bet you would give it to me.”
“You can be damn sure I would.”
His thick fingers teased my entrances, and I breathed in sharply.
“You want to make this a trade? Fine. Give me the number, and I’ll get you off. Don’t give it to me, and I’ll make you so wet that you beg me, before walking away.”
“That’s just mean.”
“I never claimed to be nice.” He slid the tip of his fingers into me, rocking the base of his palm against my clit slowly.
My heart pounded so loudly it was difficult to think.
The pressure of his touches made me pant.
He slid his fingers further inside me, and I clenched around him as I neared the edge.
The bastard wouldn’t really stop me, would he? He—
Ohh, shit.
I cried out, so damn close to the edge.
But his hand stilled, right then.
I groaned, but he pinned me in place with his hips when I tried to rock them.
“The number, Polaris?” His growl only made me more needy.
The bastard had played me like a damn fiddle, and I wasn’t even mad about it.
