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No one had ever bathed me before—not since my mom’s death. But his hands were sure and unhesitating, gliding over my back with a kind of possessive reverence that made my knees weak.
He bypassed my welts, reduced the pressure where I was still sensitive or hurting.
“You’re so pale,” he murmured, stepped forward, and pressed against my back. “Beautiful and innocent.” He skimmed over my breast with the washcloth.
I bit back a moan at the sensation, heat flooding my cheeks.
I leaned back—involuntarily—my head resting on his chest. I turned until my lips almost touched his throat. Somehow my body was taking on a life on its own.
His eyes flicked down and locked with mine, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “But not for long.”
His promise sent goosebumps along my skin, and a sharp spear of desire left my core aching for more.
CHAPTERTWENTY
He handed me the washcloth. “Your turn.”
I stared at him, my mouth going dry. He wanted me to wash him? To touch his naked body with my bare hands? I didn’t know if I could do it without combusting on the spot.
Gabe arched a brow. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
I steeled myself, took the washcloth, and soaped it, trying to ignore the way my hands trembled.
I started at his shoulders, gliding the cloth over smooth, tanned skin, hard muscle, and black ink. He was all rugged power and predatory grace, and being this close to him had my heart beating as if I was running a marathon—in a wet suit.
I moved lower, soaped his chest, and the cloth grazed one of his nipples.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
My eyes shot up.
His eyes met mine. Almost black. Hungry.
Emboldened, I did it again, circling the tight bud with my fingertip. A low growl rumbled in his chest.
“Don’t play with fire if you can’t handle the heat,” he bit out, grabbing my wrist. He was breathing hard, and I could feel the evidence of his arousal poking against my belly.
I looked down. The rigid line of his cock, long, thick, the head flushed a dark red, stood out proud against his dark curls.
I couldn’t look away. Wanted to touch him there, too, explore every inch of him.
The forbidden desire shocked me. Made fire run through my veins while making me shiver at the same time.
Gabe tilted my chin up with his free hand and forced me to meet his gaze. “You want to play?” He pressed closer, pinning me to the wall, the hard length of his body trapping me in place. “Do you want to touch me, Stellina?” His voice was a dark purr against my ear. “Because I would let you. I would let you do whatever you wanted with me.”
My heart stuttered. I didn’t know how to respond to that, was torn between longing to touch him and be touched and the knowledge that this was wrong.
But in that moment, with his hard body against mine, his lips brushing my skin, and his seductive voice in my ear, turning my insides into a raging inferno, I couldn’t remember a single reason why this was wrong.
All I could focus on was the aching need inside me, and the man who had put it there.
I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. “Why did you take me? Why save me?”
His gaze sharpened, eyes gleaming in the dim light. “You allegedly saved me first.”
“That’s not an answer.” My pulse raced as I searched his face. He was like stone, unreadable. “Why didn’t you just leave me there?”
For a long moment, he was silent. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it off his forehead. “I don’t know.” His lips twisted wryly. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”
