Page 29 of Wren's Winter

Reaching between us, Adrian took my hands, holding them tight. “I have never felt more out of my depth with a woman than with you. I was a fumbling idiot not thirty minutes ago, staring at you in a bra like a twelve-year-old boy. Nothing about how I’m acting is suave.”

“Adrian, be serious.” I raised a brow. “We both know what this is between us, and it’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with a fling, but I’m obviously into you, so you don’t have to say what you think I want to hear.”

“On my grandparents, I promise you, I’m telling the truth. When I say that you’re beautiful, I mean it. I tell you I want you—I mean it. And when I tell you we both need a shower, it’s true.”

Point taken, we were both covered in river sludge.

My hand in his, he helped me to my feet, leading me into the small bathroom at the end of the hall. The tiling was redone in a white-and-blue motif with little vases painted on the border.

He saw me glancing at the tiles. “My Gran loved Greece. She picked it out.”

Reaching inside the shower, he turned the water on, testing the temperature with his hand.

I bunched the hem of his shirt into my fist, wringing it. As he turned to me, he frowned. “Let me know if it’s too hot for you.”

I tested the water, biting my lip.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

I shook my head. I didn’t. It was one thing to be naked in front of him when we were fooling around in the living room, but this was different, more charged somehow.

“I need you to tell me to stay.”

With a steadying inhale, I gazed up at him, his eyes that stormy color I had grown to react to. “Come in with me?”

His gaze grew darker as he agreed. I reached between us, running a finger under the waistband of his pants. He didn’t move, allowing me to take the lead. Slowly, I pulled his pants and boxers down in a single long move. He kicked them away in the corner. I had seen a glimpse of this body the day before, but having it in front of me was wholly different. Taking my time, I gazed down at the strong panes of his chest and over his flat stomach, stopping at the juncture of his thighs. I felt the hard length of him in the living room, saw the shadow of it the morning before when I caught his backside. He was long and hard, bigger than I had ever seen.

“Oh, wow. Um, does that thing fit?”

He smirked at me. “I’m sure we can find a way.”

I let out an incredulous chuckle. “I’m not so sure.”

He took a step closer to me, touching the shirt I was wearing. “Can I...” He tugged lightly on the hem. The air inside the bathroom seemed to go up several degrees from his proximity.

“Okay.” My voice came out low, throaty.

The shirt slid over my head, and I was bare before him. He motioned to the shower, and I climbed in, with him following behind.

Under the hot spray, I leaned my head back, slicking my hair from my face. On the other side, he watched me as I moved, his hand cupping his hard cock.

The water ran down my body as I stared back at him. How was the water not evaporating off me from this heat? One step forward, and he reached beside me, grabbing a bottle from the shelf.

“Turn around.”

A thrill ran right at my clit at the command. My back to him, I heard the little noises of the shampoo and then his hands were in my hair, massaging my scalp. His short nails, scratching, his fingers working through my hair. I let out a small groan. I always loved having my hair shampooed at the stylist but had never had a lover do it for me. His fingers worked over my hair, scrubbing. All the while, his hard cock was rubbing against my ass, reminders of what was coming. Placing a hand on my shoulder, he turned me to face him, tipping my head back to rinse the shampoo. Now his cock was bumping into my hip.

He applied conditioner, working it through my curls. How he had conditioner at his place, I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask. He grabbed a clean washcloth, poured body wash over it, and began scrubbing my skin, starting with my shoulder and moving down my body. He made no noise as he washed me, though he seemed to pay special attention to my breasts. From my neck to the tips of my toes, he washed my body, his hands moving over me. Every pass sends flames of pleasure through me. Once he was content with my washing, he tipped my head back again, taking his time on my hair, methodically lifting and separating my strands until they were rinsed.

“My turn,” I said, switching spots with him. He was so much taller than me, I motioned for him to kneel on the floor. His face at my belly level, he gazed up at me as I squirted shampoo into my hands, rubbing it into his wet hair. My nails scraped at his scalp, rubbing in the soap. His hands came up behind me, grabbing onto my ass, his thumbs digging into my skin.

As he tipped his head back to rinse, I ran my fingers through his hair. He let out a low, guttural moan that shot straight to my clit. I squeezed my thighs together to trap the sensation.

His hair clean, he opened his eyes to look up at me. Slowly, he leaned forward until his mouth was at my belly button, his tongue coming out and licking the water from my skin. “You taste so good wet.”

From their spot on my ass, his hands moved to grip my hips. Still kneeling on the floor of the shower, his mouth kissed over my pubic bone, down the apex of my thighs.

“Lean against the wall,” he ordered.

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