Page 46 of After Our Kiss

“Enough. I agreed to get you clean, not to play a hundred questions. We're done here,” he said, starting to stand.

“One more question, please.”

He stopped mid-motion. Slowly, he settled back on the floor. “Fine. One more, that's all.”

“Did you mean what you said before?” I asked in a hush.

“Which thing?”

My gaze fell to my knees where they poked from the water. I remembered everything that had happened so acutely; my face in the ceiling mirror, flushed with passion, was seared into my head. “When you told me I was beautiful.”

His silence was torture. I'd never cared what people thought of me, because none of them had left a mark on my heart. But Conway was different.

It was why everything he did hurt so much.

He has nothing to say. Guess everything was a show for the damn camera.“Fine,” I said, laughing weakly. When had I become so frail? “Forget about it. What a stupid question.”

I started to pull my head under the water. He caught my chin, guiding me up and around until I sank into his tunnel vision. “I meant what I said with every fiber in my body. You're more beautiful than anyone I've ever known, Georgia Mary King. If you searched every star in the sky, you couldn't find one more glorious than you. Not if you looked for a thousand years.”

I reached for his wrists, holding his palms to my face. “I've changed so much over the years. You didn't like me better when I was a skinny teenager?”

His sharply handsome features became perplexed. “Thin as a needle or round as the moon, you're stunning either way. That will never change.”

A compliment had never roosted so solidly. My lips were on his, seeking out more of this addictive feeling—to be wanted. To feel loved.

He returned my kiss, not caring that I tasted like soap. Lifting me from the tub, he wrapped me in a towel. “Back to your room,” he whispered, his voice husky. “Now.”

Reaching my hand down, I palmed the erection in his pants. He openly groaned. “Not yet. I don't want this moment to end.”

Every glimpse at therealemotions Conway kept bottled up was magical. If we left the room it would be over. I knew it and I couldn't handle it.

“Georgia...”

“Please.” I stroked his zipper, opening the button. “I need to feel you. You keep working me up and driving me crazy, you keep warping me into some sort of sexual toy, but you won't let me taste you. You won't fuck me.”

He dug his fingers into my upper arms so roughly it hurt. “Is this what you're asking for? You need me to fuck you, stretch you out with my cock? Say it. Say that's what you need.”

Jolt after jolt of delicious heat rolled through me. “I need your cock. I—fuck- just put it in me. I've never wanted anyone as badly as I want you.”

He grimaced like I'd hurt him. “You're going to ruin me. Aren't you afraid I'll ruin you in return?”

“I'm not afraid of you,” I said honestly, looking him in the eye. “I haven't ever been.”

Wrapping me up like an avalanche, he glided his tongue in my mouth. His thumbs brushed my temples, clasped my naked shoulders and shoved the towel to the floor.

Kissing me again, he yanked his shirt over his head. Murals of ink cascaded over his flesh. He wasn't free of scars, but unlike his arms, there were far less of them here. Only one drew my attention—a jagged thing that tracked from his collarbone to his right shoulder.

He saw me looking; when I touched the scar tissue, he chuckled. “Relax. It's not like it hurts anymore.”

“You're used to it,” I whispered. “But I'm not. Seeing it for the first time is like I'm the one being stabbed.”

Dismay wrecked his features. He inhaled my worries, linking his fingers so we traced his scar together. Unable to help myself, I rolled my hand over his denim, caressing the outline of his massive hard-on.

“Jesus,” I breathed out. I'd seen him touching himself. It was nothing compared to doing it myself.

“Take it out,” he said.

I'd already popped the button. It was quick to spread the zipper all the way to the base. I half-crouched, sliding his jeans over his trim waist. His cock jutted proudly against his black boxers. Reaching around, I palmed his firm ass, loving how he growled in his throat above me. Every inch of this man was pure, masculine power.

---