Page 55 of Embracing the Beat
“Why?” I ask.
“Why what? Why’d I take a shower?”
My attention fastens to a drop of water that grazes her collarbone before being absorbed into the towel covering her breasts. Blood rushes to my groin, the desire to lean forward and sample the dewy texture of her skin almost overpowering.
“Why do you think I don’t feel the same way about you?” I meet her eyes, waiting for her to process my question before she opens her mouth to respond.
“You told me the other night was a mistake.”
I take a step toward her, closing the gap between us, loving the way her chest lifts with her breath, thrusting her breasts forward.
“I never called it a mistake. I said it shouldn’t have happened,” I correct. “And you agreed with me.”
“Only after you said it first.”
I close the distance another foot, and she retreats a half step, her hands gripping the knot of the towel in the center of her chest. But the whiteness of her knuckles against the towel isn’t caused by fear. Just like the way her breath hitches isn’t. I understand what she’s experiencing because I’m in this too, because of how well I know her.
“What if I wasn’t being honest when I said it?” I ask, backing her up against the bathroom counter until she can’t go any farther.
She releases the towel to press her hands on my chest, where my heart pounds wildly.
“What if the only thing I’ve thought about since the other night was you? What if the only thing I’ve wanted to do since then is worship you over and over and over again?”
Her pupils dilate, and her tongue peeks out along the seam of her lips.
“Worship?” The breathy quality of her voice makes me smile.
She’s as turned on as I am.
“Have you thought about that night too, Michaela?” I lift a hand, running my finger from her shoulder to her elbow, enjoying the shudder that racks her body at my caress.
“Yes.” She tilts her chin to look at me, and desire that mirrors my own fills her gaze.
“What have you thought about?” I align my hips with hers, letting my erection press against her stomach, loving the small moan that works its way out of her throat.
“The tie,” she admits, the color of her cheeks deepening.
I lean closer, my lips grazing her ear. “The tie, huh? Did you like that?”
Her breathing shallows, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. Her body is already giving me an answer, but she gives me the word too.
“Yes.”
“Anything else?” Dragging my nose along her jaw, I follow the line down her neck, placing my lips against the pulse fluttering at the base.
She tilts her head to give me better access, and I take what’s so sweetly offered to me, sinking my teeth into the tendon, relishing the jerk of her hips against mine. The friction stokes the fire coursing through my veins.
“You,” she whimpers.
On a scale of one to ten of how badly I want Michaela, I’m at a hundred. And I haven’t even gotten my hands on her yet.
Time to remedy that.
“Me?” I coast my lips to her shoulder while I lift my hands to her hips. “What about me?”
“I—everything. I can’t get that night out of my head, no matter how hard I try.” Her eyes blaze open, and I see the truth of her struggle in the cerulean depths.
“I thought you said our experience was ‘forgettable’?” I tease, flexing my fingers against the fabric of the towel that barely covers the top of her thighs.
