Page 105 of Retaliation

“Planning to join me?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Someone has to make sure you don’t cause any more trouble.”

She laughed, a light, teasing sound that made his hardness press uncomfortably against his jeans.

“As if I’d need help with that.”

He helped her out of her clothes, each piece revealing more of the faint bruises that marked her skin. His fingers brushed over her wounds with care, guilt simmering beneath the surface at the thought of her in pain.

Stepping into the shower, she sighed as the warm water cascaded over her, her casted arm awkwardly raised away from the water. He allowed his eyes to appreciate her body. Those green eyes shone like gems, dancing with mischief. His eyes roamed lower, over her full breasts, her curvy hips, and those long legs he would give anything to have wrapped around his head.

He shook his head, trying to push away the thoughts as he palmed his erection into a less uncomfortable position. Looking up, he found her staring at the movement of his hand, biting her lip, and the lust in her eyes ripped a low growl from his chest.

He took a step toward her, lust and longing consuming every rational part of his mind, but she stopped him with a raised hand, shaking her head.

“Sit on the edge of the bath,” she ordered, her voice low as she peered at him through her thick lashes. “Hands on the edge.”

He had no idea why he obeyed when every nerve in his body begged him to get into that shower with her. But he sat down and gripped the cold surface, his eyes refusing to leave hers.

He watched as she reached for the soap, lathered her hand in bubbles, and placed the soap back on the corner shelf. With excruciating, slow, deliberate movements, she glided her hand over her perfect breasts, pinching each nipple enough to make her lips fall open in a silent moan. Her hand explored her body, making its way to her stomach and down to the curve of her hips.

His breath caught in his throat. Desire roared through him, an intense need to touch her, to be the one caressing her skin. But he remained still, fingers digging into the edge of the tub. The sight of her, wet and vulnerable yet so powerful, was a torment he couldn’t look away from.

Her eyes locked onto his as she slid her hand between her thighs, her touch light and teasing. She tilted her head back, a sigh escaping her lips, and he felt his restraint teeter on the edge. The water streamed down her body, rivulets tracing paths over her curves, and he swallowed hard, his pulse pounding in his ears.

He couldn’t help himself. His cock throbbed against the stiff material, and he rubbed against the blissful ache with his palm.

“Stop,” she whispered, her voice a blend of command and plea, and he did. “Hands on the edge,” she ordered again, and he obeyed, gripping the porcelain—his breathing rushed.

His obedience drew a satisfied smile from her, her hand continuing its tortuous, slow circles between her legs.

“Such a good boy,” she said with a wicked glint in her eyes.

He moved without thinking, a magnet drawn to its opposite. Standing up, he stepped into the shower, not bothering to remove his clothes. The heat of the water hit him like a wave. He reached for her, his hands clasping her face as he claimed her lips, slamming her back into the wall. His resolve shattered. The kiss fierce and demanding, pouring all his pent-up emotion into it.

She responded with equal fervor, her hand trailing up his chest as she removed his shirt with one hand, nails grazing his skin in a way that sent shivers down his spine. Fingers tangling in his hair, she pulled him deeper into her.

“I’ll show you how good I can make you feel,” he growled, breaking the kiss.

His hands roamed over her slick skin, memorizing every curve, every dip. The shower’s heat mingled with their own, creating a cocoon of steam and desire.

“Phillip,” she breathed against his lips, the word a plea of need.

Dropping to his knees, he placed a hand on her thigh, lifting her leg over his shoulder. The sight of her, open and wet, fueled his hunger. He leaned in, his tongue tracing a path that made her gasp, her nails digging into his shoulder. Each flick and stroke brought her closer, her breaths turning into soft moans.

“Don’t let your cast get wet,” he commanded, his voice filled with authority and desire. “Hold on to the wall.”

She nodded, eyes glazed with pleasure. He hooked her other leg over his shoulder, his arms wrapping around her hips to hold her steady.

As he lifted her, her body trembled, and she arched into his mouth. Pressing her back against the wall, her legs around his neck, his tongue trailed up her dripping wet pussy, and he groaned against her warmth, craving more of her.

Her moans filled the steamy bathroom, each sound a spark that ignited his own hunger. The taste of her drove him wild, his tongue moving with a passion that matched the pounding of his heart. She gripped the wall, her knuckles white.

“Phillip,” she gasped, her voice a breathless whisper, a plea that cut through the haze of lust.

He paused, lifting his gaze to meet hers. The connection between them was electric, a silent conversation of trust and need. He saw the vulnerability in her eyes, the fierce determination not to let anything break her. His heart swelled with emotions so strong they nearly overwhelmed him.

He pressed deeper, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring every reaction he drew from her. Her hips bucked against him, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. She was close, teetering on the edge, and he wanted to push her over, to give her the release she craved.

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