Page 68 of Gluttony
When that creature had her in its vice, and she’d stopped breathing, when every vine and root he’d burned and ripped away from her body grew back, he’d been cold with terror. He couldn’t lose her, and he almost did.
While he continued to sing softly, his voice rasping and trembling, he gently lowered their bodies to submerge partly in the water. He scooped water to wash away the shampoo, tilting her head back and rinsing against his chest while she listened. As the song finished, he lifted them back up. The dying note echoed in the air.
She wiped her eyes and then faced him again, eyes glistening.
“You bastard,” she sobbed and laughed at the same time.
“What?”
“You made me cry! You sang Beyoncé perfectly in tune, for heaven’s sake. Who does that?” She buried her face into his chest and shook her head. Her voice muffled against his skin. “All day I’d not cried, and the moment I hear your voice, I’m done.” When she looked up again, her humor fled. “You thought you’d ruin me, Tony, and you have. With a song.” She sniffed. “And before you get all worked up, it’s a sweet ruin. It’s a walls-coming-down-ruin. It’s—” she choked up, unable to say more.
“Hey.” He hooked a finger under her chin so he could look into her eyes. “But at least I rinsed your hair.”
She burst out laughing and then covered her mouth.
He took her hand away. “Don’t hide your smile, angel.”
When her lashes lifted, and their gazes clashed, desire ignited. The raw sexual intent in her eyes sent every male hormone skyrocketing. His body became hot, prickly and hard. His scent bloomed with musk—pheromones—and then the mood in the tub turned dark and needy. Everything changed.
She pulled him down to meet her lips. The kiss she gave him started chaste and sweet, but soon became demanding.
Tasting her was everything.
She whimpered and arched toward him, twisting to get closer, but he forced her back. He wasn’t going to rush this.
“Let me make you feel good,” he murmured against her ear.
She shivered, lashes fluttering. After a moment, she gave a small, shy nod. Liquid warmth spread through his chest. He placed her back to his chest again, and slid his hand down her stomach, leaving the other cupped on her breast. Under the water, he twirled a finger around her belly button, circling bigger with each pass until she made an impatient noise. Smiling against her ear, he licked the lobe, enjoying her breath turning ragged.
“Does this feel good?” Pulling her lobe between his teeth, he nipped.
She nodded.
He exhaled, watched his hot breath create goosebumps on her wet flesh, and then rubbed his nose along the skin. “This?”
“Uh-huh.” She squirmed.
He bit her shoulder and tested the weight of her breasts in his hands. Gorgeous, full, and peaked with desire.
“And this?” Going deep, he dipped between her legs, sliding through her private flesh with an escaped, hoarse groan of his own. “Here?” He plunged his finger in.
She tensed, gasping, then exhaled with a whimpered nod. “Yes. More.”
So tight. He pumped once, twice. He mimicked his finger’s rhythm with his tongue on the flesh behind her ear. And when his tongue traced around, exploring her neck, the tip of his finger began a slow, torturous circle of her sensitive nub. She gripped the tub, fingers flexing with restlessness and urgency. He liked it when her knuckles paled.
“Yes, Tony,” she gasped. “Make me feel good.”
Watching her final defenses crack, seeing how she completely put her pleasure in his hands, it drove his rhythm to match his fierce mood. He was hard, relentless, and driven. He gave her what she wanted. With a final pinch on her nipple, she responded with a cry and a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes rolled back, her body bowed, and she released a long drawn-out, satisfied moan that he felt down to his bones until she finally came down with languid limbs.
She was safe.
She was his.
Smiling to himself, pleased, he unplugged the bath and lifted her, enjoying the way her head lolled against his chest. The sassy bodyguard who always held her own against him had finally succumbed to his appeal.
Getting out was harder than getting in, but he didn’t let her know that. He gathered a big towel, draped it over her body, and then carried her back to his room. Placing her gently at the edge of his bed, he stood before her and used the towel to dab her body dry, taking special and attentive care over all the places he’d lovingly touched, learning the areas anew.
She stared, unfocused, in lazy silence, but when he lifted his arms to scrub the towel over her hair, his erection lifted too. Her gaze dropped, and then she took hold of it, fisting it within her grip. She stroked, pumped. His vision went white. Unable to do anything else, he stopped toweling her hair and gave in to the sensation. Tingles zapped up his spine. His legs weakened.
