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I gasp at the contact as goosebumps pebble up on my skin.
Once he pulls them off and he’s down on his knees in front of me, his strong hands grip my thighs, and his eyes leave a burning trail of fire on my skin as they take every inch of me in.
“Fuck, beauty, you take my breath away,” he whispers. His voice is low and gravelly, sending an electric current straight to the pit of my stomach.
He stands up, walking over to my desk to grab the cast cover that my doctor sent home with me. My eyes never leave him as he wraps me up and then scoops me up in his arms.
“I can walk,” I tell him, smirking.
He doesn’t say anything, just carries me into the bathroom, sitting me on the sink. The granite is cold on my bare skin. I watch the muscles in his back flex as he leans into the shower, turning the water on, adjusting the temperature.
It doesn’t take long for the bathroom to steam up, fog on the mirror, and sweat glistening on the both of us.
He walks over to the sink, cupping my face in his hand, pulling me in for a long deep kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck, gently bringing him closer, our kiss deepening even more. I can’t help the moan that escapes my mouth.
His thumbs are brushing the skin of my cheeks, his other fingers gripping my head.
I know, without a doubt, there’s not a man on earth that can kiss like Clark. He leaves me breathless and wanting more every single time his lips connect with mine.
He pulls away, and I immediately miss his touch, but his eyes are lighting a fire on my body that is almost too much to handle. He leans down again, peppering kisses on my neck and collarbone, before running his tongue across my glistening skin.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers.
He helps me off the counter, holding my hand as we walk over to the shower. I step inside, turning to watch him strip all of his clothes off, standing in front of me like some kind of chiseled, perfect specimen of a man.
Clark’s body is perfect. His hard work has paid off, and it shows with the muscle definition on every inch of him. His tattoos paint a beautiful story on his body. His dark hair is floppy, falling over his face.
He doesn’t say anything, just continues to take me in, like I am him, before he steps into the shower with me, backing me up against the wall.
The hot water is spraying down over the both of us. I don’t want to do anything but run my hands over every inch of his body.
He grips the back of my head, pulling me in for another long, deep kiss, the water from the shower making it sloppier than usual, but it doesn’t deter either one of us.
“Clark,” I moan, my head rolling back against the wall of the shower, as his lips make their descent down my neck.
His tongue licks the water off my collarbone, as one of his free hands make their way down my body, before he slips a finger inside my pussy.
“I don’t think you’re dirty enough yet,” he whispers against my ear, before pulling my earlobe between his teeth.
My back arches against the wall of the shower, and my breath comes out in short, shallow pants.
He nibbles at my chin and jaw, his stubble rubbing against my skin, before he presses his lips against mine again.
“Sit on the bench,” he orders, referring to the shower bench Mitch put in for me.
I whimper when he removes his finger from me but follow his orders and take a seat on the bench.
I watch this God of a man get down on his knees in the shower, water spraying all over him. He uses his hands to push my thighs apart, before bending down, devouring my pussy.
“Fuck,” I groan, closing my eyes as his tongue flicks and licks.
I grip his head, bucking myself against his face.
His expert mouth continues its assault on my clit. His tongue making long, slow draws against my most sensitive area.
“I’m coming, Clark,” I moan.
He pulls away, smirking, breathing heavily.
