Page 80 of Dirty Love

I lower myself to his feet and reach for his boots. Pausing before I start on his laces, I glance up at him. “Feels a bit like reverse deja vu here.”

“Yeah?”

“You bathed me once.”

“That was an excuse to get dirty.”

“What do you think this is?” I tease him, but my voice cracks.

He doesn’t grin, doesn’t bat it away. “It can be whatever you want.”

No. That would be… “Let’s just get you cleaned up.”

I focus on his boots, then I start the shower. When I turn around, he’s got his jeans low on his hips, and my mouth goes dry.

He’s hard.

He’s sliced up, and his hands are battered, and we’ve just been though a nightmare, and he’s hard for me.

“Take off your clothes,” he growls, and I do as he commands.

We’re broken and scared and dirty. Maybe I’m the only one who’s scared. But we’re both definitely broken, irrevocably, and fuck it, this is how we deal.

I grab a washcloth and the body wash, as well as the conditioner, before joining him in the small tub, under the small but strong stream of hot water. It’s perfect.

“I think you told me to hold still,” I whisper as I carefully balance the two containers on the soap ledge.

“I can do that.” He braces himself against the tile wall and closes his eyes. I wet the washcloth under the hot water and press it against his face. It streaks rusty red immediately. I rinse it and repeat, over and over again, until the dried blood is gone, and the water swirling at our feet is clear.

Then I lather up some body wash and smooth it over his neck, his shoulders. Down his chest, and carefully over his hands.

“We should get some ice on these,” I whisper, brushing my lips across his knuckles.

“Soon. Heat first.” He turns me into the water, running his hands over my body. He cups my breasts, my waist, my hips, then drops to his knees and presses his face to my belly. His lips brush my tattoo, and he shudders. “Tabitha…”

Fuck. I tip my head back, urging the tears to go away, but it’s no good. I squeeze my eyes shut as he kisses my cleft, his tongue sliding between my lips and around my clit.

“Let me love you,” he groans, sliding my leg up onto his shoulder. “Let me show you…”

He latches on, his tongue flat and his suck strong as he covers my pussy with his mouth. Oh, Lord.Yes. “Fuck…”

It doesn’t take long for the flutter and thrust of his tongue to get me off, and he keeps licking me until I beg him to stop. I fist my hand in his hair and tug his head back from my very happy cunt. “That was not the plan.”

He grins up at me. “But you taste good.”

“Stand up.” I bite my lip as he obliges, towering over me. I reach for the conditioner. “Now, to get us back on track…”

I slick him up, cock and balls and further still, and he holds at attention for me, letting me touch him wherever I want.

I want everything.

He groans as I stroke him. I twist my hand as I deftly get him off. “Are going to come for me?”

“Always.”

“I love watching you,” I whisper. “The way your face changes. Sometimes I think it’s the only time I see your real face.”

“Maybe it is. But—”

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