Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family #7)(44)

I come hard, riding the wave of my orgasm right until he joins me too.

Afterward, he stays on top of me for a long while, and as our breaths regain a regular rhythm, I can't help thinking that this didn't feel like just sex, or fun.

It felt like everything.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Clara

"I need to shower," I say after a while. We're still entangled in each other's arms.

"So do I. How about we do it together?" He wiggles his eyebrows, and I can't help a grin.

"You're shameless."

"You have a dirty mind, Clara."

"So you weren't thinking about doing wicked things to me in the shower?" I pout.

"Nah, or you'll be sore tomorrow. I'm just going to help you clean up."

"Fine, let's go clean up, Bennett."

We walk to the shower holding hands, and for some reason this feels incredibly intimate. Blake starts the water, testing the temperature by bringing his hand in front of the spray every few seconds, only letting me in when it's warm enough. I love this protective side of him.

He reaches for my shower gel and sniffs through the open lid. I giggle when he recoils. "Right, no shower gel for me."

"But you always say you like how I smell."

"Yeah, I like it on you."

I know it smells too girly, peach and honey. When I hold out my palm for Blake to pour in it, he shakes his head.

"I'm cleaning you."

"I thought you were just going to help me out in a few spots."

"You need my help everywhere," he says seriously.

"You decided that for me, huh?"

"Yeah. Anything against it?"

"Not at all." I lean back against the cold tiles. "I'm all yours."

Blake's eyes flash as he pours shower gel in his hands, rubs his palms together to warm it up, then gets to work. I have to give it to him; he's perfectly composed as he slides his hands all over my body. He seems to particularly favor my breasts and slit, the bastard. I'm so turned on I want to climb him on the spot.

I barely register when he turns me around, soaping my back too. All of my back, including the scars. I tighten up a bit, then relax again. It's okay; this is Blake. I trust him, and I love his touch. After the warm spray washes away the soap, he turns the water off and hugs me from behind, wrapping his arms around me, resting his mouth in the nook of my neck. It feels good, and innocent... right up until I press my ass into him and feel his rock-hard erection.

"Just ignore it," Blake says.

"But I don't want to. I want to kiss it, lick it. In general thank it for the fabulous job it's done." I turn around, looking up at him. "Just putting it out there, but I won't go to sleep tonight. I have to get up in three hours anyway. Now, I have a few ideas about how we could fill those hours...."

"Are you trying to corrupt me?"



       
         
       
        

"Is it working?"

"I don't want you to be sore tomorrow."

"Clearly I need to sharpen my temptation skills."

"You're killing me, Clara. Let's get out of this shower and put some clothes on."

"Then what?"

"Then I'm going to take care of you."

I did not expect this comeback. He takes my hand again as he leads us back to the room. I slip into a robe, and Blake puts on his boxers. He looks like an underwear model, with his six-pack and wet hair. I can imagine what an uproar he's causing every time he goes to the beach. Women are probably vying for him. A pang of jealousy shoots through me, making my heart squeeze. I'm being silly, and I'm determined not to waste any second worrying. I have much better things to do until I leave. I want to get my fill of all things Blake: his smile, his touch, his humor. I'm going to miss him, and that's ridiculous, because I will only be gone for five days.

"I need to pack."

"Hell, and I thought I did last-minute packing."

"Not my fault. I was going to do that before going to bed, but then someone bulldozed over my plans." I elbow him, pointing to the suitcase resting on top of the dresser. "Can you get that for me?"

"Sure."

I lean against the wall, tightening my robe. Blake walks to the dresser, and he's so tall that he can easily reach the suitcase by extending one arm. The expanse of his back is ripped and as I look closely, I notice a few scratches on his shoulder blades, four on each one. I don't remember doing that. Just as I don't remember biting him, but there's a definite mark on his bicep as he flexes it to retrieve the suitcase. Heavens, what a sight this is. I should store more of my belongings at that level, ask him to reach for them. The movement makes good use of quite a few muscle groups. It's a good workout for him, and a delectable sight for my eyes.