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Pinching the clasp at my back, I allow my bra to fall to my feet before rolling my black lace panties down to my ankles.
It’s been ages since I’ve felt any shyness about getting naked. If a man doesn’t like what he sees then he can fuck right off and get his dick serviced elsewhere.
And I’m not feeling shy right now, not exactly.
I’m just intensely aware that Conner is studying every inch of my body at very close range. I’m also aware that he’s used to stripping down with the world’s most gorgeous women. I’d have to be made of ice for that not to give me a touch of anxiety and I’m definitely not made of ice.
“You are so fucking beautiful.” Conner has crept closer, so close that my skin prickles at the prospect of his touch. The husky rumble of his voice is heavy with sex and promises.
Hot need blooms deep in my belly and multiplies rapidly. Yet I don’t turn around before stepping into the steamy shower. I’m enjoying the anticipation of what will come next.
The water glides over my skin and I turn my face toward the spray. The urge to scour away my makeup is sudden and intense. Puzzling. I’m very alert to the fact that he’s here, inches away, as I rub a washcloth on my skin until I’m sure my face is clean.
Maybe my reasons are not so mysterious after all. I never had much use for makeup as a girl. Lita was the one who kept the bathroom counter cluttered with lip gloss and mascara bottles. Now for once I want a man to seeme, not the layers of paint applied to avoid the sight of my own face in the mirror.
The shampoo squirted into my palm is my favorite, a beachy mix of coconut and vanilla that from now on will make me think of Conner, and of dozing off in his lap to the music of crashing waves.
I still haven’t faced him when he gruffly pushes my hands away and uses his own, working the shampoo into a lather. I allow him to do what he wants. His touch is hypnotic. Demanding and sensual. If his hands drift between my legs right now I could come in seconds.
But he just finishes soaping my hair and watches while I wash the suds away.
Nothing about Conner is shy or cautious. He sure isn’t the type to beg for permission to make a filthy move. Right now he’s biding his time in silence, savoring the mounting sexual tension until he finds the moment of his choosing.
We’re torturing each other in here and reveling in the agony.
This time I squirt some shower gel on a loofah and finally turn around. My eyes are traitors and instantly drop low. It’s no surprise to see his massive, thick cock at full attention. The throb in my clit intensifies, my muscles quiver and my teeth rake my lower lip. I’m nearly dizzy with the fever to have him, all of him.
And I will. Soon.
For now I press the sponge to his broad chest, salivating over the ridges of hard muscle. He’s perfect, every inch. A class apart from any other man.
Then I see it, a quarter-sized scar carved into his skin beneath his right hip. The sight of the spot where a bullet entered his body twists a knife in my own chest.
He inhales sharply when I touch the scar with my fingertips. I want to kiss that piece of his painful past away. I want to avenge him.
I want to tell him the truth about the things he forgot.
When I raise my eyes I find blue fire staring back. The way he looks at me, with such savage hunger, erases all words. The game is coming to an end and he plans to claim his prize.
“When we fuck, there’s no turning back.”
I knew that before tonight. I knew it before he did.
He doesn’t move a muscle when I turn the water off and leave the steamy haze while reaching for the pair of towels hanging from a wall hook. Conner catches the towel I toss his way. I don’t look back as I move to the vanity mirror and start blotting water from my skin.
Conner emerges with the towel around his waist just as I tie the belt of my purple silk robe. He says nothing as he prowls directly behind where I stand at the cloudy mirror, toweling off my hair and then combing the damp tangles.
The towel around his waist is in imminent danger of falling. I watch in the mirror as it slips and reveals another inch of the muscled V cut below his belly. Fuck, I’m on the verge of rubbing one out right this minute so that I can think clearly.
He reads my heated expression and smirks, clearly enjoying the effect he has on me.
Whatever.
Yes, I want him. I see no reason to hide it.
Let’s see how much more he can take before he reaches the breaking point and pushes me to my knees. Or bends me over the sink. Or tears this fucking robe in half and flings me on the bed.
I’m ready for the scene to get nasty. X-rated. Downright indecent.
