Page 43 of Playful Kris

He likes to use fifteen towels for every shower. We need one to lay on the floor, one to dry off with, one to wrap around his waist. Which means by the time I need one they’re all down in the laundry room.

And I don’t have my clothes. They’re still sitting on my open suitcase because I was so flustered with him I just needed to get away.

Now I’m naked, wet, and have to pray he isn’t in the room so I can sneak my clothes and figure out how to dry off.

I grab the doorknob and freeze, taking a deep breath. Give me just a little luck here.

Slowly twisting, I crack the door and peek into the bedroom.

Nothing. Okay.

“Kris,” I say, and when I hear no response, I’m certain I’m in the clear and swing the door open.

I’m halfway across the room when I hear him and freeze.

He looks up just as his last foot hits the landing, and our eyes meet.

That same sizzle that’s always there ignites when he slowly lets his gaze drop and takes in every inch of me.

You know how your head and your heart always do different things? Well, my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders right now because I don’t even attempt to cover up. I’m frozen standing in front of him, as naked as the day the Lord made me.

He clears his throat, his eyes snapping back to mine before he sits what he’s carrying in his hand on the dresser next to the entryway. Pain meds and a Gatorade.

Something in my chest tightens at the gesture.

“You know, Kam, you always were a fucking fantasy.” His voice is rough, but it runs over my skin like silk with his words. “And seeing you dripping wet from your shower, without you even trying to cover yourself from me…” He shakes his head, a wicked smirk slipping across his lips. “Well, baby, all I can say isgood girl.”His lips are directly in front of my nose now, and my thighs press together at his word choice.

I’d told him one day how turned on I get hearing book characters call their ladies good girls in the bedroom, and that’s been one thing he’s always used when I’m naked in front of him.

Not that this has happened recently.

“What’s wrong?” Humor lacing his voice makes me roll my eyes. “Dripping somewhere else?”

“No.” I finally find my voice. I can’t let him have complete satisfaction.

“Oh, yeah? If I touch you right now, what am I going to find?” He pauses, his hand lifting and coming to my chin so that I’m staring into his eyes. “Huh?” His hand stretches around my neck before his palm slides further down my chest, right between my breasts. “I bet your pussy is dripping for me.”

I swallow, struggling to find my words with his filthy ones lingering in the air between us. His hand twists over my stomach before dropping lower until he cups my sex in his hand. The heat of his hand has my body instinctively leaning into his touch.

Fucking traitor.

“Dripping,” he whispers half a second before his mouth slams over mine.

Two fingers slide inside me, and I fight hard, I really do, but my head falls back on my shoulders with a pleasured moan slipping past my lips. I feel Kris lean into me, pressing a tender kiss to my jaw before bringing his lips to my ears.

“Fucking soaked.”

My pussy clenches around his hand, and there’s no mistaking his smile against my skin. His fingers curl, my hands move to grip his shoulders as he brings me to the edge.

“Please,” I beg, needing more.

To hell with the promises I made myself. I want him, even though it’s a bad idea to want anything with him.

He captures my lips, taking my breath completely as my orgasm barrels through me and his name falls from my lips in a cry.

God, why does he have to be so fucking good with his hands?

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, slowly pulling his fingers from me.

---