“Don’t be sorry,” he says, reaching up and tilting up my chin. When our gazes collide, he says, “This was bound to happen, having your hands on me again. You’re the only woman to ever make me feel so alive.”
I don’t answer him, because my mouth feels dry, and because I can barely hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart. My stomach clenches tight as the shift that has been slowly moving between us continues to rotate, forcing me to see him as the man he was before his pa arrived.
The sexy, thoughtful, beautiful man that I fell in love with.
And with every deep breath from his brawny chest, a wave of apprehension gnaws away at my confidence to keep my distance.
“Sit up for me,” I say, filling the cup with water. He leans forward and tilts his head back as I rinse the shampoo out of his hair.
It takes a few cups to get it all out, but once I do, I set the cup back down and he lies against the tub again while I rub his bar of soap into a washcloth, lathering it up until I feel like it’s ready.
With a deep swallow, I press the washcloth to his chest and start soaping him up.
God, his soap smells so freaking good. Like the mountains and streams and something entirely too masculine to pinpoint. All I know is, this smell, it’s associated with Pike, it’s a smell I’ve grown quite fond of, and it’s doing tricky things to my thoughts.
I smooth the washcloth over his shoulders, under his arms, and across his pecs. The entire time, I feel his eyes on me. With an unsteady hand, I move the washcloth down his abs to just above his straining cock. I have no idea what to do, so I stutter to a halt, not sure if I should clean that part of him or not.
But I don’t get much time to think about it, because Pike’s hand falls to mine, and he moves the washcloth and my hand over his cock, cleaning the tip, then the length—I suck in a sharp hiss as we go over his piercings—and then all the way to his balls.
He groans.
I hold in my erotic moan that begs to be let out, and when he releases my hand so I can continue down his legs, I instead travel back up the length of his cock and smooth the washcloth against his stomach, letting his cock brush against the back of my hand as I clean close to his pubic bone.
“Fuck,” he whispers, his stomach hollowing out as I take him in my hand again, stretching the washcloth down his length and to his balls. “Baby,” he says lightly. “You have to stop.”
But I don’t.
I don’t know why.
Maybe because I’m so desperate to touch him.
So desperate to feel him one more time.
I move the washcloth down his leg and then back up his inner thigh, back to his cock. His legs spread and his head falls back against the tub. I watch as his muscles contract with each pass of my hand. The veins leading down to his cock from the V in his hips throb and his cock bobs as I swipe past it.
“Coraline,” he whispers while I drag the washcloth over his tip and then back down. His teeth roll over his bottom lip, his eyes squeeze shut, and his chest heaves.
I’m unable to stop. I can’t, I’m too fascinated.
I’m too turned on.
His cock is glorious.
I’m too far down the road of no return, so I drop the washcloth, grip his cock with my hand, and pump him.
I want to suck his cock.
His eyes fly open to mine, and I watch as his mouth drops open in sexy shock as I grip him tighter and stroke.
He’s so fucking hard, and I’m so, so wet.
His good hand reaches for my face and cups the back of my head, bringing me closer, and I let him.
I want his kiss.
I let him drag me in until we’re a whisper away from each other.
I stroke him hard and fast.
I want to be riding his rock-hard cock. God, I want him.
He gasps against my lips, and just as he’s about to kiss me, his grip tightens even further and he moans as he comes on his stomach.
“Fu-uck,” he says as I pull my head away, a dizzying feeling passing over me.
What did I just do?
You just gave Pike Greyson a hand job, that’s what you did, you moron.
His head falls against the back of the tub and I take that moment to clean up his stomach with the washcloth and then quickly make use of the cup, pouring water over the suds on his body. I need to get out of here, and quick.
“All done,” I say awkwardly, grabbing his plush, white towel and draping it over my arm.
I hold out my hand and wait for him to grab it. He leans forward, pulls the plug, and then he takes my hand in his. Together, we get him out of the tub and onto the bath rug. I quickly wrap the towel around his waist and take a step back.