Page 115 of Best Kind of Trouble
Her eyes light up with mischief, and she runs out of the bathroom, leaving me with no choice but to follow her—soaking wet and buck naked.
She shrieks with laughter when I catch up with her in the hallway just beyond the bedroom and wrap my soaked arms around her. “You’re all wet!”
“Now you are too,” I say, slinging her over my shoulder. “Hopefully in lots of interesting places.”
She slaps my shoulder as I march us back to the bedroom. “You’re horrible.”
“I am, but you seem to like it, so I don’t have any motivation to change.”
I slide into the en suite bathroom and set her down next to the shower, grinning like a total idiot—feeling like one, too, but not caring much. “I think you should take those clothes off, Briar. They’re soaked.”
She smiles playfully as she slowly pulls her loose top over her head, letting her hair fall in a wild riot around her bare chest.
Damn, she’s a sight for sore eyes. I could stare at her for the rest of my life, and it wouldn’t be long enough, but why settle for staring when you can touch?
I grab a fistful of her hair and use it to tug her closer. “Come into the shower with me. I want to do dirty things to you.”
“My hair will get wet,” she objects.
“I want to wash it for you.”
She grins at me. “You promised to do dirty things to me.”
“Oh, it’ll be fucking dirty. You haven’t seen me do it yet.”
I kiss her while she’s still laughing.
She pulls back and steps out of her underwear, leaving her entirely bare for me. She’s a goddess, framed in gold.
I open the shower door and tug her in with me.
The hot water beats down on us as I kiss her slowly, losing myself in the moment. She’s warm and safe, and right now she’s mine. She kisses me back with the same slow reverence.
I run my hands through her hair and pull back. “Where’s your shampoo?”
She points to a wire rack built into the corner of the oversized shower stall. “You’re really going to wash it?”
“I want to take care of you. But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten that I made other promises too.” I turn her in my arms and reach between her legs as the water continues to pound down on us.
“Does this mean I have to talk about Eugene’s engagement?” she says in a breathy voice. “Because I don’t think I want to anymore.”
I lean in, rubbing her slickness with my fingers. “Please don’t.”
She hums and backs into me, my dick hard as hell as I thrust my fingers into her, hungry for the way she’s responding to my touch.
“I wish I had more hands,” I mutter as I run my other hand over her slick body, palming her breasts as she grinds into me.
My mind starts wandering—When will this end? How will it end? Does it need to end?—but I corral it back to the present moment. I want to enjoy her while I have her. I can only hope that she might want to keep me too, that we’ll figure out a way to make it work.
Briar moans as I curl my fingers inside her, finding a spot she likes, and suddenly the only thing that matters is giving her pleasure.
“Bend over for me, Princess,” I whisper in her ear. “Hold onto that wall and lift your ass up.”
She glances over her shoulder at me as she plants her hands on the wall and pushes her waist out.
Fuck me, I want to slam into her—I want it so badly my body is nearly trembling with need. But promises were made. I run my hands over her sopping-wet hair again, then grab the shampoo from the rack and squeeze some into my hand.
“You’re washing my hair right now?” she whispers as if scandalized.
