Page 22 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

I feel two years younger, observing him without him observing me, free to feel girlish curiosity alongside mature hunger. But when Piers turns back to me, I’m too slow to look away and he catches me. Our eyes meet, and then I can’t look away at all, because his hunger is matching mine.

I haven’t seen his bare chest and stomach since he was in his mid twenties and we went on holiday to an Italian beach. To a sixteen year old me, his body looked like it belonged to a supermodel, with the brilliant smile and windswept hair and gorgeous green eyes to match. Now that he’s thirty, everything about him is broader, more solid, more grounded-

Oh god. How long have I been waiting for something like this to happen? How can I remember so many points throughout my life when I imagined seeing Piers naked for the first time?

And why is it finally happening now that it’s absolutely the worst possible scenario for both of us?

Piers keeps his eyes on me when he shrugs out of his pants, leaving him in nothing but boxers. I swallow, but my throat goes dry when he shucks those off as well.

He’s already erect, and not even remotely interested in hiding it. He’s also very intentionally left me to remove my own underwear. Perhaps he’d been willing to pressure me into taking a shower before, but now that we’re here, he wants me to choose.

So I do, slipping off my underwear and turning to face him fully. Piers’s green eyes, almost black from the size of his pupils, examine every inch of me, lighting fires in their wake. Then he jerks his chin at the shower.

“Go on, then.”

I step past him, skin tingling under his gaze. Even though the water in the shower is warm, it pales in comparison to the blush suffusing my entire body. And when Piers steps through the curtain after me, my internal temperature rises even higher.

This shower is very,verysmall.

If Piers’s excuse for climbing in with me is still to help me with my shower, it’s a poor one. His head and shoulders block the weak jet of water entirely. But if I’m in front of him, I can’t stand far enough back to avoid being hit full in the face by the water. I watch his lips twist in a ghost of a smile, and wonder if he’s realizing this too.

“We’ll get a better room next time,” he says.

“There’s not going to be a next time,” I inform him, but his smile doesn’t disappear.

“Sounds like I’ve got a lot to prove.”

I open my mouth to retort again, but he doesn’t let me. We’re already inches apart- it takes nothing to close that distance and press his lips softly into mine. Especially when I tilt my face up to meet his.

He’s even more tender than I came to expect, no doubt trying to spare me any pain from the bruise on my face. The tip of his tongue touches my lower lip, coaxing, testing, teasing. I part my lips, and with a moan he claims my mouth. His taste, his smell, his power overwhelms me, and I don’t care that I’m drowning.

Our kiss from before was nothing compared to this. Can I even call it a kiss, when he was just trying to get my attention?Thisis a kiss. More than a kiss.

It’s a realization of my wildest girlish fantasies.

I try to wrap my arms around his neck, but he takes hold of my wrists and lowers them firmly so I don’t stretch my side. My palms flatten on his broad chest, hot even against my too warm skin, but he’s already pulling away. Breaking our kiss.

I whimper when our lips part, then gasp when he drags them over the unmarked side of my jaw and down my neck instead. Warm water hits my skin as Piers bends down, trailing kisses down my torso. His feet and knees squeak over the acrylic surface of the tub as he kneels. His hands squeeze my hips. I suck in a breath that’s almost painful as his lips brush across the tender skin of my abdomen. Lower.Lower.

When he sucks my clit into his mouth, I have to grit my teeth to stifle a moan. I have no idea what my face looks like while I’m being taken apart by this overwhelming intimacy, so I hide it in my hands while Piers licks me up and down. His hands clench around my thighs, and he presses his face more firmly against me. Thrusts his tongueintome. I choke on a sob, my legs trembling. His growl vibrates through my bones as he feasts.

One of his hands releases my thigh, and he pulls his tongue free just to drag it up my clit once again. The kiss he plants there sends a shiver through my whole body. This time, I can’t muffle my cry when his first two fingers circle the rim of me, and then plunge inside.

Between Piers’s sucking mouth and his thrusting fingers, I’m losing my grip on reality. I don’t feel pain anymore. I barely even feel the water drumming against my skin. All I’m aware of is the growing tension in between my legs, the way my muscles are clenching around Piers’s fingers.

I’m not prepared for this to get more intense. I don’t know what I’ll do when the pressure releases-

And when it does, Ishatter. Pleasure rolls up my spine and down my limbs. I let my head fall back against the tiled wall, because I can’t keep myself upright without help now. Still, the more I slump, the more it feels like I’m fallingupward. My hands are no longer hiding my face. No, they’re clutching at Piers’s hair, pressing him deeper,deeperbetween my legs, like his mouth and his fingers are my only anchors to this reality. When the sensation finally eases, I’m left limp, but still he holds me up.

Piers pulls his fingers free with one last drag over my clit. I expect him to stand, to move away, but instead he lets his forehead rest just below my belly button. I feel his ragged breath on my too-tender skin, feel every tremble that goes through his body. Slowly, I realize that he’s pleasuring himself now, riding the high of my orgasm and transmuting it into his own. His free hand is still squeezing my thigh. My fingers are still tangled in his hair. His face presses into my abdomen, his teeth scraping my skin-

His breath stops hard when he finally cums at my feet, then returns in a panting moan. My heart is soaring, but all too quickly it plummets. I’m not prepared for him to pull away. It doesn’t matter that we’re both already sated, that this was a bad idea to begin with, that it can never happen again. I’m desperate for him to linger.

But he doesn’t. He gets to his feet, sheltering me from the shower spray once again. His kiss barely brushes my forehead, and his words are a puff of warm air against my skin, there and gone.

“Don’t forget to wash your hair,” he murmurs, before climbing out of the shower and leaving me dazed.

Chapter 12

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