Page 76 of Want Me, Take Me, Haunt Me, Make Me

Maxwell clicked his tongue sympathetically and went back to his task, almost skimming her back with the washcloth. “And the substances I could get my hands on—well, a few would help with the pain, but I suspect I’d have to hold you up.”

“Could be awkward,” she agreed. “Besides, I should stay relativelyalert these days.”

“Rather than in your normal opium haze, you mean?”

“Hey, we haven’t known each other that long. For all you know, I could have been this century’s Samuel Coleridge before Chapman hired me.”

“Ha,” he said, and lifted the washcloth away. “Turn around.”

She did, and distracted herself from the sharp, shallow pain of the water with the sight of Maxwell naked and wet before her. His hair lay flat and dark against his head, and droplets ran down his silver skin, almost but not quite following the red lines of his sigils. From the neck up, he looked a lot like he had when they’d met in the rain, though she could see more of his face.

Hazel could see a lot more of him in general, of course, which was a major improvement.

“Also,” she said, as she let her gaze wander downward and found him already half-erect, “I don’t think you were enjoying yourself so much back when we first started talking.”

“Not…quite,” said Maxwell, following her line of thought after a momentary pause to orient himself. “The experience had a surprising amount to recommend it, though, even then.” His smile was rich with remembered sensuality.

Intrigued, Hazel splayed one hand against the base of his throat, feeling his rapid pulse through her fingertips. “You like being tied up, then? Or was my raincoat devastatingly sexy?”

“It had its charms. Being at your mercy had more of an effect on me.” The memory was having its own effect; Maxwell’s eyes had gone dark and his cock pressed against her, fully hard now and nearly as hot as the water.

Hazel slid her hand down his chest, circled one nipple, then drew her thumb slowly across it and enjoyed Maxwell’s sharp, ragged breath. “Fascinating. Just mine?”

“Difficult—ah—” She’d started over with his other nipple. “—to say. I haven’t considered the prospect with any humans in a while.Never went beyond consideration before that. It—”

Hazel was trailing her fingers over his flat stomach, her other hand sliding up the outside of his thigh, and he broke off before finding his train of thought again.

“There wasn’t quite the opportunity. Back then.”

“Really? I’ve heard a few things—”

He caught her wrist. “Beyond my nerve and my connections, I fear. And if you continue in this fashion, we’ll end up adding to your bruises. There’s no soft surface in this entire room.”

Heat leaped from his gaze to her own body, running through it with almost kinetic force. Hazel knew he had a point, though. If opiates were a bad idea, then putting more strain on her muscles or making her injuries worse would be stupid choices too.

She didn’t care. She had to care.

Hazel shifted her weight forward. The feeling of her nipples rubbing against the damp hair on Maxwell’s chest made her pulse with need, but the contact hadn’t been her main motive. Closing the distance let her slip her wrist out of his grip. “You know,” she said, and kissed the underside of his jaw, “my knees aren’t bruised.”

* * *

Lust absolutely destroyed the brain, which was the only excuse Maxwell could find for not fully realizing what Hazel meant until she’d kneeled before him. He heard the words, they had meaning, but he was still blinking at the sudden space where she’d been when she kissed the inside of his thigh.

“I—” he said coherently, to the shining black crown of her head.

“Hmm?” Her lips vibrated against his skin, and one smooth cheek brushed past his erection. All the world shrunk to those points.

Maxwell struggled to remember how language worked. “You—” Right, yes, a subject. A verb came next. What did he need to say? That she didn’t have to do what she was clearly about to? Hazel didn’tseem the sort to act out of obligation, not carnally, which made her interest even more intoxicating.

She moved to his other thigh as he tried to think, hair brushing over him on the way, and Maxwell barely kept himself from thrusting against her face. The water poured down over him, each drop an explosion of feeling.

Water. Yes. “You still do need to breathe, darling,” he reminded her, the endearment falling from his lips before he thought about it. “Unless you’ve been keeping secrets.”

“Not that one,” said Hazel, and punctuated herself by flicking her tongue around the tip of Maxwell’s cock, making his hands flatten against the wall. “I do. Eventually.”

That was when she took the whole straining length of him into her mouth, and Maxwell’s vision went white. He was vaguely aware of his head falling back against the tiled wall, of reaching for Hazel’s head and then catching himself enough to drop his hands to her shoulders. All else narrowed to two things: pleasure and the drive for more.

Kissing Hazel could have led him to expect skill, if he’d ever connected those rather filthy dots, but he’d never extrapolated enough to predict the soft warmth of her mouth around his erection, the agility of her tongue, or the nimble way her hands insinuated themselves between his legs, stroking and cupping.