Page 43 of Fury

She releases me, but I keep my back to her. She takes the soap from the dish, then slips around me so she’s in front, her innocent eyes staring up at me unblinking as the water soaks her silk short pyjamas. Her nipples pebble tightly, begging me to taste them.

She rubs her hands over the soap, dropping it back in the dish, then she tentatively places each hand against my solid chest. I inhale sharply, watching as she slowly rubs them over my wet skin in small circular motions. “You were gone a long time.” She looks down between us, watching the blood wash away. My erection stands proudly, and she glances back up, biting on her lower lip suggestively. “We should do something about that,” she whispers. Her hand wraps around my thick length before I can reply, and I close my eyes and let my head fall back as she rubs me slowly.

“Xanth,” I whisper, unsure if it sounds anything like I mean it to. She continues, gripping me tighter and moving faster. “We can’t,” I manage to squeeze out. “Stop.” She immediately releases me, and my body sags in relief, “I’m sorry,” I mutter. “We can’t complicate things.”

She gives a stiff nod, her brows furrowing. Then she steps from the shower without a word, grabbing a towel and heading back into the bedroom. “Xanth,” I call after her, “let’s talk.”

“Now, you want to talk,” she calls back, adding a cold laugh. “Sure.”

“It doesn’t have to make things weird,” I say, turning off the shower and getting out. There’s no towel since she took it, so I go into the bedroom naked. She isn’t there, and I groan, marching to the conjoining door and opening it. She’s naked, drying her skin vigorously. My eyes linger on her backside, and my cock strains harder. “You haven’t changed,” I say. “You still refuse to stick around to hear me out.”

She scoffs, wrapping the towel around herself. “You’re dripping on my floor.”

“I want to,” I say, and she arches a brow. “Have sex,” I add. “Fuck, I’ve dreamt about that moment so many times.”

“Bullshit,” she snaps. “You had me right there and you turned me down.”

“Because things are messy right now, don’t you think?”

She removes the towel, throwing it at me. I catch it, groaning as she bends to pick up a shirt. My cock begs me to take her, but I can’t mess this up. “Donnie is screwing trying to find you,” I snap. “In his eyes, you’re still a thing.”

“I told him it was over,” she snaps, pulling the shirt on but leaving the buttons open.

“Fasten it,” I growl, but she ignores me, dropping down onto the bed and not bothering to cover up. I keep my eyes fixed to her face. “And I . . .” I groan. “I have unfinished business back in Nottingham.”

She stares at me with confusion. “You said you were single.”

“I am, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“It’s complicated.”

She scowls, standing and fastening the shirt. She then grabs her leggings and begins to pull them on, leaving out any sort ofunderwear. When she pushes her foot into her trainer, I realise she’s planning to leave. “What are you doing?” I demand.

“Going home.”

“You’re not safe there.”

“I’ll work it out.”

“Work what out? Xanthe, when he realises you’re back, he’s going to take you to his place and keep you there. He was so angry earlier when he realised you weren’t home.”

“I’ll call the police.”

“They can’t help.”

She growls, stamping her foot in frustration. “There are laws,” she cries, “and they’re there to protect women from men like him.”

I take her wrists gently. “I know,” I say, trying to gain eye contact. “I get it, you’re mad, but if you leave here, it’ll end badly, and I won’t be able to help you without killing all of them.” She stills, letting my words sink in. “It’s not that I don’t want you, Xanth. Fuck, I want you so badly, it’s painful. But the timing is wrong. You’ve dealt with a lot of shit these last few days, and your head is all over the place. If I took advantage of that now, it would make me selfish, and I’m trying not to be that with you.”

She chews on her lower lip again, and I feel her relax slightly. Her eyes find mine, and she gives a brief nod. “Okay.”

“You’ll stay?” I ask, and she nods. I smile, pulling her into my arms. “Thank you.”

“On one condition.” I stiffen again, waiting for her demand. “Tell me the truth about Nottingham. Who are you running from?”

When I release her, she steps back with a steely glare in her eyes. She won’t let this go. “Who says I’m running?” I ask, shrugging. I secure the towel around my waist.

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