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Dear God.
How I don’t realize my towel’s come loose and it’s slipping down.
Until suddenly I’m standing there, naked and damp and shivering.
Completely exposed, with the towel and my clothes scattered around my feet.
August stands so rigidly in front of me, staring down with his eyes livid, stars of blue fire burning through the shadows.
I’m too frozen to even cover myself with my arms.
Pure mortification washes through me until I’m numb.
He must think I’m making a play for him, pulling some kind of contrived—
But no.
August’s mouth tightens into a forbidding line, his jaw a knot of hard steel.
I lower my eyes, humiliation fuming through me, and just wait for him to walk away so we can pretend this didn’t happen. I hear the faint scuff of his feet and brace myself for the hurt of something I didn’t even offer being rejected.
But he’s coming closer, not falling away.
I lift my head sharply, feeling my lungs turning to stone.
There’s barely half a second to register the storm lashing in his eyes.
Then that storm crashes over me, sweeping me up in his hold and his kiss and his everything.
His rough fingers curl around my arms, jerking me against him.
His mouth captures mine like a predator, injecting me with heat.
He slams me back against the bathroom door, the wood rattling in its frame as my body presses against it—cold on one side, hot on the other, as his frame molds to mine.
I’m so lost.
But maybe I don’t want to be found.
There’s no way to explain how this feels.
It’s like the moment when a small ship gets caught up in a violent storm, cataclysmic waves standing ten times higher, swirling with the sheer power of an ocean gone mad while the clouds and wind and rain whip the boat with one force of nature and then another.
August is the sea and the storm.
I’m defenseless, unguarded, his pressure molding every inch of me with nothing to save me from the sheer rush of his heat.
The scrape of his shirt against my breasts and nipples.
The thrust of his hips against mine.
The hardness against his slacks.
He’s so thick as it prods between my legs and rips a startled gasp out of me, pushing me up on my toes with the thrill, bleeding the sound from my lips to his to be devoured.
I don’t even remember dropping my arms.
But they’re around his shoulders now, fingers buried in his hair, strain pouring down the backs of my calves to the tips of my toes as I stretch up to reach him, to meet him, to give every inch of myself over as I let my lips fall slack and let him take, take, take.
