Page 52 of Make Me Yours
This is Steele.
My Steele.
And yet, my body doesn’t seem to care.
Need pulses through me in a low, steady rhythm that’s impossible to ignore. It coils in my belly, a throb of awareness that makes it hard to focus.
Steele shifts again, a flicker of tension rippling through him, as if he feels it too.
He doesn’t say a word.
With every pass of the towel, I inch my way downward. It doesn’t take long before I’m at his lower back, dangerously close to his ass. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to trace over the tight curve of him without the towel between us.
I falter at the base of his spine, unsure if I should continue. Before I can make a conscious decision, the towel dips until I’m swiping over the round firmness of the taut muscles. It’s gradually that I slide the material back and forth until not a drop of water lingers. Heat flares in my core, and I have to squeeze my thighs together to stymie the need crashing through me.
Even though I shouldn’t do it, I lower myself to the floor and drag the towel over his thighs. They’re thick and strong from being on the ice six days a week during the season. I sweep over his calves and feet, which are firmly planted on the gray bath mat. My belly flutters with nerves at the thought of shifting to his front.
You’re being ridiculous, Lilah.
This is Steele.
He’s hurt and needs your help.
The last thing I want is for him to bend over, get dizzy, and fall.
I keep that thought firmly in mind as I rise to my feet and circle around him until I’m facing the wall of his chest. My breath grows shallow and uneven, betraying the storm brewing inside me.
Even though I refuse to meet his eyes, I’m acutely aware of his heated gaze tracking my every movement. My hands tremble as I sweep wide strokes of the towel over his perfectly defined pecs, captivated by the strength beneath my fingertips. All it would take is dropping the towel, and I could feel him directly against my skin.
The fresh, clean scent of soap clings to him, surrounding me in a dizzying haze and igniting a longing I hadn’t known lay dormant beneath the surface of our friendship. I find myself swaying toward him before pulling back and forcing myself to regain control.
“Are you okay?” His hands flex and tighten at his sides, as if he wants to reach out and take hold of me.
Unable to meet his gaze, I keep my eyes focused on his pecs. “Yup, almost done.”
A wave of heat crashes over me as I slide the material over one nipple and then the other until both are stiff. When I make one final pass across the sensitive peaks, he lets out a low hiss.
The sound has another burst of need exploding in my core.
I move the towel over his rib cage, tracing the deep grooves of his ripped abdominals. Every ridge is sharply defined, his body carved from discipline and determination. The towel glides lower, and I falter for half a second when I reach the sharp cut of his V-line—a path that arrows straight down to the coarse, dark hair at his groin.
A flutter of nerves takes root in my belly, blooming into something deeper, more dangerous, as my gaze dips lower. He’sthick and swollen, his arousal impossible to ignore. Heat pulses through me, a molten ache that settles low in my abdomen as my thighs press together.
My fingers twitch with the need to touch him, but I settle for a few brisk pats, clinging to what little restraint I have left. Steele groans, the sound low and guttural, as his hips jerk forward in response. The movement is raw and instinctive. It only intensifies the ache thundering through me. I shift lower, forcing myself to focus, pretending my hands aren’t still trembling as I bring the towel to his shins.
The moment I settle in front of him, it hits me like a jolt.
This position puts me eye level with his cock.
My lips part as his thick, glistening length bobs just inches from my face.
A wave of desire crashes over me. It’s both fierce and consuming. I want to taste him. To feel the weight of him on my tongue. Does he taste as clean and fresh as he smells? The question strikes like lightning and lingers, sparking need in every cell of my body.
I take a shaky inhale and tilt my head back, unable to resist seeking out his gaze. When our eyes meet, a tingling sensation skitters along my skin.
Desire flares in his expression, hot and hungry, before it slams into me with the force of an avalanche. No man has ever looked at me the way Steele does now. As if I’m everything he’s ever wanted.
One large hand lifts to cup my cheek with a tenderness that unravels something deep inside me. His thumb strums lightly over my parted lips, and it’s that small, affectionate touch that undoes me. He groans again, and it vibrates through me like a caress.
