Page 142 of Untamed

When her hands reach the waistband of my boxers, she pauses, lifting her gaze to mine as if seeking a silent affirmation. I offer her nothing but stillness, a quiet assurance that speaks volumes.

And it seems that’s enough for her.

With a quiet determination, she curls her fingers into the damp fabric and peels it down, her eyes unfalteringly locked ontomine. My cock springs free, hard and throbbing, and her eyes widen just a fraction before she licks her lips.

God damnit.

The air between us shifts, charged with an electric tension. I draw in a staggering breath as I stand bare before her, now completely exposed.

She steps back a half pace to take me in fully. To observe. To absorb. And she does, her gaze sweeping over every scar, every cut, every old wound that marks the man standing in front of her. She doesn’t flinch or turn away, as if she’s trying to commit to memory all the places that once broke me and piece them back together with just her eyes.

And then they lower to my cock again, hard and throbbing with need forher.

She licks her lips, slowly, whether it’s on purpose to torture me or instinctual, I don’t know, but I don’t miss the ravenous look that flames in her gorgeous eyes.

When our gazes finally meet again, a tightness grips my chest. She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. I take a single step toward her, water sliding down my body, cascading between us, over her collarbone, her shoulders, the gentle curve of her hips. Her lips part slightly, yet no words escape.

So, I give her mine, low, rough, true. “You have eyes,” I murmur, my voice barely above a growl, “that make a man like me desperate to sin, bambina.” Her breath hitches, a soft intake of air, and I remain still, wanting her to feel it. Every single word, every ounce of restraint I’m clinging to while she stands there, bare and beautiful, gazing at me as if I’m not the monster everyone else sees.

“And if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to lose what little control I have left.”

I could shatter this moment, could take her right here and now, drowning in her until every scar fades from memory. But not yet. Because this, this, is a form of worship I’ve never known. And I’ll burn in it for as long as she lets me.

She doesn’t speak at first.

Just watches me with those wide, storm-filled eyes that see more than I’ve ever let anyone close enough to witness.

She sinks to her knees in front of me like a fucking wet dream made from flesh, her hair plastered to her face, water cascading down her body in rivulets that make her skin gleam like she’s been dipped in liquid sin. Her full lips part, and the breath that escapes her is a fucking siren’s call, hot and trembling, and it hits me like a punch to the gut. My cock twitches, rock hard, already aching for her.

Then she looks up.

Her eyes, fuck, her eyes, are like twin pools of molten desire, clear and unflinching, and they lock onto mine with a hunger that makes my fucking knees weak. There’s no hesitation, no coyness, just raw, unadulterated need. Her voice, when it comes, is a whisper that slices through the air like a blade, sharp and deliberate.

“I want to taste you.”

The words hang there, heavy and electric, and I swear my fucking soul leaves my body for a second. She doesn’t say it like she’s trying to seduce me, no, this is something else entirely. It’sa plea, a demand, a fucking prayer all rolled into one. “Teach me, Ares.”

Jesus.My name on her lips is a goddamn revelation.

I’m frozen, my breath caught in my throat, my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest. She’s kneeling there, soaked and perfect, her small hands resting on her thighs like she’s waiting for me to give her the world. And fuck, I want to. I want to give her everything.

I reach down, my fingers trembling as they thread through her wet hair. It’s soft, silken even when wet, and I cradle the back of her head. My thumb brushes the edge of her jaw, and I feel her shiver under my touch. Her skin is warm, slick with water, and I can’t help but imagine how it would feel pressed against mine.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” I growl, my voice low and rough, like gravel dragged over glass.

But she does. Oh, she fucking does. It’s in the way she looks at me, her eyes dark with desire, her lips parted like she’s already imagining them wrapped around my cock. Her hands slide up my thighs, her palms warm against my flesh and she stops just short of where I need her most. She’s teasing me, and it’s driving me insane.

The steam from the shower swirls around us, thick and heavy, but all I can see is her. On her knees. Looking up at me like I’m her God. Maybe I’m the monster she’s chosen to worship.

She stays perfectly still, waiting, breathing, watching me like I’m the only thing that exists in the world right now.

And God help me, I pray that I am.

My fingers tighten gently in her hair, not pulling, just anchoring. She leans into the touch, her eyes never wavering. The water slides over both of us, warm and constant, but it’s her breath on my skin that sends the real shiver down my spine.

“Look at me,” I murmur, voice low, rough with restraint.

She does. Without hesitation. “Good girl.”

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