Page 121 of Penance

A future together.

It’s too much, too fast. My breath hitches, a small gasp escaping my lips as he pushes open the bathroom door and steps through it, still holding me.

Wait.

That can’t be true.

If he planned this, it had to mean he planned for me to come running to him, and that could only mean—

No.

My brain won’t even finish the thought.

That’s stupid.

That’s crazy.

By the time I’ve come back to reality, he’s placed me on my feet in the shower, and he’s climbing in behind me and flipping the tap on. The water hits me like a punch, a thousand needles pricking my skin.

It’s cold. It’s so cold that for a minute I can’t pull in a breath.

It soaks my hair, races down my spine, and I turn to try to chase away the chill as Draco steps in behind me.

I’m still wearing the thong I went to bed in last night, and he reaches down and forces the straps over my hips, then down my thighs. I step out of it and he tosses it over the shower curtain.

I can hear it hit the tile floor with a wet slap.

Finally, I can feel the water starting to warm, and I let out my breath in a deep shake that shivers throughout my whole body.

Then, it’s too hot, and I pull away, hissing. He reaches over me and adjusts it, and within seconds it feels like a comforting hug, and all thoughts have fled. Draco’s hands find my hips and pull me back, meshing me against his body until it feels like we are one person—one being. My body is a traitor, reacting to his proximity, his touch. I fold into him, pushing my body against his and feeling myself react. Something between my legs aches for him, and the thought makes me blush.

What has he done to me?

Just a day ago, I would have recoiled, pulled away from him, and hid behind my faith. Today, I’m finding it harder and harder to care, and I don’t think I could force it even if I tried.

I barely have a moment to register the thought before I have his hands on me, his fingers playing across the front of mythroat, and then falling down over my collarbone. His hands move in slow, deliberate circles, moving down my arms, then back up, tracing the line of my collarbone.

“Draco? Please?”

The words escape my lips in a whisper, like a prayer.

But a prayer for what?

For him to stop?

Or for him to keep going?

“Shh.”

His hands move across my chest and then over my breasts until they find the nipples, and he tweaks them into peaks, and the ache grows deeper, more insistent. I groan, but I don’t know if it’s in need or from the pain of sensitive, hormone swollen breasts. As if sensing my thoughts, he leans in, his arms falling around my waist and pulling me back, crushing me against him.

“I am giving you one chance,” he growls, his voice vibrating through the shell of my ear. “I told you I wouldn’t be gentle, Mercy, and I don’t plan to be. This is your once chance to get away before I do every single thing I’ve been thinking about doing to you.”

I swallow hard, blinking away droplets of water that cling to my eyelashes.

“Is it going to hurt?”

He nods, and when he growls against the side of my neck something inside me clenches.

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