“Can you stand for me?” he asks, turning his face into mine. I nod and ease up on my grip, letting him gently place me on my feet. The concentration of his face holds me rapt as he undresses me slowly and carefully. All of the usual habits are here with us—the clothes being folded before he puts them in the laundry basket, his soft lips parted just so, his eyes swimming with emotion. Once he’s seen through his task, he looks to me in silent demand, so I step forward and begin to slowly strip him down, even folding his blood-stained suit before placing it in the basket, despite it being more at home in the trash. Seeing past the puncture wound and blood to allow my eyes to indulge in his perfection is impossible. His hands, his chest, his jaw are covered in red stains. I’m uncertain as to which blood belongs to Miller and which to the guy who appeared so unexpectedly from my sordid past. His timing couldn’t have been worse, though I doubt Miller’s reaction would have been any less violent had he materialized on any other occasion.
I reach up and gently prod around the site of the wound with my fingertip, trying to gauge whether it needs professional attention.
“It doesn’t hurt,” he says quietly, taking my hand away and placing it over his heart. “This is my only concern.”
Smiling a little, I step into his chest and lift myself to his body, wrapping my limbs around him, absorbing him. “I know,” I murmur into his neck, savoring the feel of his overgrown waves tickling my nose and his harsh stubble on my cheek.
Strong hands slide onto my bum, and his lean legs stride toward the shower. My back is pushed up to the tiles the moment we enter, and he pulls back, denying my face the warmth of his neck. “I just want to clean us,” he says, a slight frown on his face.
“Elaborate.” I’m delighted when I see his lips tip at one corner, his eyes developing a shimmer of playfulness.
“As you wish.” He reaches over and flicks the shower on, and the instant warm water rains down on us. His hair flattens on his head, and the blood on his chest starts to pour away.
“I do.”
He nods a little and reaches behind him to push my thighs from his waist before doing the same with my arms. I’m on my feet, my back resting against the wall, watching Miller closely. His palm meets the wall by my head, and he leans in, his nose a millimeter from mine. “I’m going to glide my hands over every curve of your perfect body, Olivia. And I’m going to watch while you writhe and fight to contain your desire for me.” His fingertip traces a burning path down my wet hip, onto my thigh. I’m struggling for control already, and he knows it.
I rest my head back, parting my lips to gather more air.
“I’m going to pay extra special attention just here.” Heat radiates through me when he strokes tenderly back and forth over my pulsing center. “And here.” His head drops to my chest and he sucks a tingling nipple into the warmth of his mouth.
I hold my breath and hit my head against the wall behind me, fighting my natural instinct to seize him, feel him, kiss him.
“Tell me how it feels,” he orders, clamping his teeth onto my nipple, sending a sharp shot of pain down to my core while his fingers glide back and forth, constantly and calmly. My backside flies back in a lame attempt to escape the intense sparks of pleasure, but I wind up thrusting my hips forward, keen to capture the sensations and make them last forever.
“Good.” My voice is nothing but a husky, pleasure-fueled gasp.
“Elaborate.”
I start to shake my head, unable to fulfill his demand.
“Do you want to touch me?”
“Yes!”
“Do you want to kiss me?”
“Yes!” I cry out, going to place my hand over his to increase the pressure on my clit, but finding the willpower from God knows where to stop myself.
“Then take it all.” It’s a demand, and only a second later, I’m attacking his mouth and my frantic hands are all over him. He bites my lip, so I bite him back, making him growl. “Do what the fucking hell you like to me, sweet girl.”
So I grab his cock and squeeze. It’s hard. It’s hot. He throws his head back and yells, his fingers working faster over my pulsing nerves, bringing me closer and closer, encouraging my own hand to fly over his shaft.
“Shit!” He gulps and drops his head, his face contorting, his jaw tense, every feature razor sharp. My budding climax accelerates under the power of his eyes drilling into me, and I begin to thrust my hips forward to meet his strokes.
He follows suit.
We watch each other as we bring each other to a head, me crying out constantly, Miller panting in my face. Drops of water are forming on his dark lashes, making his already heated eyes glisten wildly.