Page 107 of Savior

I help her from the bed, my blood cooking when her eyes flick over the mess I’ve made of my pants.

She strips down as I get the shower on and at optimal temperature. When I turn back around, I ignore the sweet call of her naked body to place the back of my hand on her forehead to check for fever.

Her breathing hitches, and I try to ignore it. However, an instantaneous jolt strikes through my dick at the sound.

“You seem like the fever you had earlier broke,” I tell her.

“Well…” She smiles up at me, nipples beading as she steps closer. “I had an amazing caregiver.”

I swallow as I think of the orgasm I’d just allowed her to have overtop of me and inwardly smirk.

She sidesteps me, enters the shower, and closes the glass door behind her.

“Coming, Father Russo?” she asks, a playful lilt in her voice.

I bite my lip, looking at her silhouette in the frosted glass.

I know I shouldn’t. The Son, the Father, and the Holy Spirit know I shouldn’t. But in the next breath, I shuck off my sweats and step into the spray of the water with the siren who’s rubbing her hands through the water over her breasts with a look in her eye that could level a battlefield of God’s most worthy warriors.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her as her eyes shift over my body from head to toe.

“I’ve never seen you fully naked before,” she says, and I instantly look down and realize what I’ve done.

I stripped myself bare and stepped into the shower with a serpent. One I’ve been warned to steer clear of my entire career. While it’s wrong to think of her as such, the idea makes my cock semi-hard all over again, and I reach for the door handle to get out of the situation before it takes a turn I can’t go back from.

Her hand comes down on mine, her body pulling close.

“Stay.”

Father, will I get out of this test of yours alive?

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

SLOANE

He hesitates at the shower door, turning back as I drop my hand away from him. I don’t want him to go. I know I should let him. We’ve been around and around with this thing between us, like the water circling the drain beneath our feet. But it seems I’ll never learn.

The only way to quit him will be once I’m away from him.

It’s new to me to have an addiction to something. To harbor a craving so bone-deep that I can’t breathe against the sting of it.

“Wash my hair?” I ask him, turning my back to him. Biting my lip, I hope he takes the bait and relaxes some. I understand that he’s never been in this position before, naked, with a woman. But I can’t help but want to soak up the feeling of his presence while I can.

The fog behind me shifts as he turns back and grabs past my arm for the shampoo, brushing my skin and causing goosebumps to rise against the hot water.

His hands are corded with veins and muscles, gentle when they’re on me, and as I hear the shampoo bottle release soap into his hand, I await their touch again.

My eyes close as he works the suds through my hair, tugging every bit to clean it.

“Are you afraid of what’s next?” I ask him, eyes rolling back as he massages my scalp.

I can’t help the deep throb down below, even if I’d only just come upon waking.

“What do you mean? The afterlife?”

I smirk. Of course, a man like him, with his accolades, would think that’s what I meant.

“No. What comes after this cabin, I meant.”

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