Page 92 of Shades of Grey & Gold

He presses his mouth to one shoulder.

The silky fabric falls, feeling more intimate than if he had ripped it from my body.

His hands follow the dress down, over my ribs, my waist, taking his time. Like there’s no family empire, no danger, no history pressing in around us. Just me and him and all the years we spent almost beingthis.

I run my hands along his strong chest and unbutton his jeans, groaning when the zipper sticks.

“You’re very impatient for someone who agreed to slow down two minutes ago.”

“I agreed under duress.”

“That so?”

“Yes.”

I slide off the counter and push his jeans over his hips. His skin against mine.

My eyes find his as our bodies press against each other, warm skin, hard muscle. The steady, violent beat of his heart.

I slide the very small thread of fabric left on my body down my own thighs and step out of the lace.

He follows my lead, casting his black briefs aside. Nothing left between us but the full truth of him.

I reach for him, wanting the weight of him in both of my hands, wanting proof that he’s as undone as I am.

But he takes my hands in his instead, leading me to the open shower door and beneath the water. My entire body feels like it’s been waiting for this.

The water is hot enough to make me gasp as he steps behind me.

There’s no space left.

His chest presses to my back, one arm curving around my middle, his mouth at the side of my neck. His hand falls between my legs, his fingers caressing the inside of my thighs, just barely brushing where I need him the most.

My hands lift on a sigh, palms landing against the fogged glass above my head.

He puts his other hand above mine and for a second, I just stare. His hand is bigger, rougher. Strong. Strong enough to do damage and careful enough to make me feel like nothing in this world could touch me unless he allowed it.

Then his mouth moves to my shoulder and my eyes flutter shut.

Behind me, his body is hard and hot and everywhere. But he doesn’t rush.

He’s slow and possessive. Tender enough to ruin me.

The water runs over both of us, but his skin still burns behind me. When his mouth finds the place where my shoulder meets my neck, he sucks lightly, just enough to make my knees forget how to work, again.

My palms audibly squeak as they slip against the glass.

But he notices before my body falls an inch.

Because of course he does.

His arm comes up beneath my breasts, holding me back against his chest. His hand climbs higher, just below the base of my throat. Not pressing, just there. Anchoring me. Keeping me upright while his other hand continues its slow circles between my thighs, threatening to make me dissolve.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs near my ear as he slips a finger inside of me and I gasp.

“I know,” I groan.

And I do.