Page 41 of Chain Me

Before I can form another protest, Erik bends slightly and sweeps me off my feet. His arms cradle me against his chest, one arm supporting my back, the other under my knees. The sudden shift leaves me momentarily breathless.

“Put me down,” I demand, but there's no real force behind my words. My body betrays me, automatically curling into his warmth despite my sweaty state.

Erik says nothing as he carries me toward the bathroom, his stride confident and purposeful. His heartbeat thuds steadily against my ear, a rhythm that somehow both soothes and excites me.

I should be putting a stop to this. Two days without a word. Two days wondering where he was, if he regretted what happened between us, if he'd decided I wasn't worth the complication. Two days of fighting my own thoughts, only to have him stroll back in like nothing happened.

“You can't disappear and then come back expecting—” I start, but my voice catches as he kicks the bathroom door open with his foot.

The rational part of my brain screams at me to demand answers, to make him explain where he's been. To punish him for making me wonder, for making me miss him. For making me care.

But his arms around me feel like the only solid thing in my upended world. The heat of his body against mine awakens every nerve ending, and I can barely string thoughts together beyond wanting his hands on me again.

“I should be furious with you,” I whisper against his neck, inhaling his scent—cedar and something uniquely Erik.

His chest rumbles with what might be a suppressed chuckle. “You should be.”

He sets me down on my feet inside the spacious bathroom, but doesn't step back. His hands remain on my waist, thumbs stroking the strip of exposed skin where my tank top has ridden up.

“Two days,” I say, trying to hold onto my anger even as it slips through my fingers like water. “You owe me an explanation.”

His dark eyes search mine, something unreadable shifting in their depths. “Later,” he promises, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me.

He reaches behind me and turns on the shower, steam quickly filling the bathroom. His eyes never leave mine as his hands find the hem of my sweat-soaked tank top.

“Arms up,” he commands, voice husky.

I obey, letting him peel the damp fabric from my skin. His fingertips brush deliberately against my ribs and my sternum, leaving trails of heat despite their gentleness. My sports brafollows, exposing my breasts to the humid air and his hungry gaze.

“You're beautiful even covered in sweat,” he murmurs, thumbs hooking into the waistband of my leggings. He slides them down my legs along with my underwear in one smooth motion. I step out of them, now completely naked, while he remains fully clothed.

The imbalance sends a thrill through me, but it doesn't last long. Erik steps back and pulls his shirt over his head in one fluid movement.

God, his body. All reason escapes me as I take him in—the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, the intricate Russian tattoos decorating his right shoulder and part of his torso, telling stories I'm not yet privy to. Scars from his military days create a map of survival across his skin.

His pants and boxer briefs join the pile of clothes on the floor, and I can't stop my eyes from drifting downward. His cock stands thick and hard, already ready for me. My mouth goes dry with wanting him.

“See something you like?” His voice holds a hint of amusement.

“Everything,” I admit, too consumed with desire to play games.

Erik's eyes darken at my honesty. He steps forward, hands circling my wrists as he guides me backward into the shower. Hot water cascades over us as my back meets the cool tile wall.

“Hands above your head,” he growls, pinning my wrists against the wall with one large hand.

I gasp as his free hand grips my thigh, lifting it to hook around his waist. The position opens me to him completely.

“You've been thinking about this, haven't you?” His lips brush against my ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “About me inside you.”

“Yes,” I breathe, arching toward him.

Without warning, he lifts me against the wall and thrusts into me, filling me completely in one powerful stroke. I cry out, my body stretching to accommodate his size.

“This is mine,” he growls, his hips driving relentlessly as he claims me against the shower wall.

Water streams down Erik's face, dripping from his eyelashes and his lips, catching on the harsh angles of his jaw. Steam clouds around us, making everything dreamlike and surreal.

“Fuck, Erik,” I gasp as he drives deeper, my nails digging into his shoulders. My legs tighten around his waist, drawing him impossibly closer.

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