Page 129 of The Temptation of Truth
Then there’s Aurora.
I’ve never felt for anyone what I feel for her. I could love her. I might already. I can’t deny how amazing it felt to hear that word fall from her lips earlier. But am I setting myself up for heartbreak? Is this just a rebound crush after a breakup? It doesn’t feel like that, but can I really trust my own judgment?
She’s twenty-three, my manager’s niece, andmarried. All of those are great reasons to stay away; instead, I dove in headfirst.
Sure, she said she’s going to divorce that fucking abusive twat, and I’m thrilled for her. But that doesn’t mean she’ll still want me. We’re in two very different stages of life. There’s no guarantee we’d last. Can I take that risk again? Should I even try? Because if it doesn’t work out, I know it will crush me worse than anything else has.
And then there’s my birth mom. I still have that decision looming. When I’m not thinking about Aurora, I’m thinking about the birth family in Georgia that doesn’t know I exist. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know the right answer.
I’ve never been this happy, but I’ve also never been this stressed. It’s all so heavy, making my skin tight and itchy, and I can feel the floor shift beneath my feet.
I tilt my head up and let the water spray on my face, willing it to ground me. To fend off the spiral. I inhale the steam and hold it in my lungs, then count to a hundred. My heart still races. The stone floor still wobbles.
Then a noise draws my attention to the bathroom door, and through the foggy glass, I see Aurora’s outline. She’s blurry, almost abstract, and at first, I think my brain conjured her to calm me down. But when I wipe the condensation from the glass, she becomes clearer, and I know she’s real.
She gives me a small, nervous smile, and then slowly, she pulls her shirt over her head. Now, my heart is racing for a different reason, and I can’t tear my eyes off her.
The glass begins to steam over again, and I wipe it off quickly, just in time to see her hands slide to the band of her jeans. I watch with labored breaths as she undoes the button and pushes them down her thighs, until she’s standing in the bathroom in just a white matching bra and panty set.
I’ve never been this turned on before. I blink several times to reassure myself that this isn’t just a rogue fantasy, but it’s not. She’s here, half-naked, and she’s getting into the shower with me.
We stand for a moment, inches apart, just staring at each other as steam fills the shower once more. The water hits her body, rendering her cotton underwear see-through, and I have to bite back a groan. She looks so sexy. I want to touch her, but I fist my hands at my sides.
“Hi,” she says, her sweet voice floating over the pattering of the water hitting the stone floor. “I hope this is okay.”
I nod. “Yes. Yes, this is okay. More than okay.”
She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, and I feel it on my already hardened nipples.
“Can I try something?”
I nod again. Slowly this time. “Anything.”
Her lips twitch into a smile, excitement and nervousness dancing across her features as she steps closer, closing the distance until our bodies barely brush together. When my breasts graze hers, a shaky whimper escapes me. I’m trembling for her.
She kisses me, gentle at first, then a little deeper. She trails her fingers up and down my torso, then pinches my nipples just how I showed her last night. I hum into her mouth, and she breaks the kiss, pulling back to watch my face as she does it again.
She doesn’t take her eyes off me as she bows her head and takes one of my nipples into her mouth, sucking first, then swirling her tongue around it, toying with my piercing before biting.
“Fuck, Aurora. That...that feels good.”
I try to keep my voice low and even. I don’t want to overwhelm her—I remember how scared I was the first time Itouched a woman—but when she bites again, my hands grip her waist and my head tips back on a groan.
“Oh, fuck, yes.”
I can feel her lips curve into a smile against my sensitive skin, before she moves a little lower, sucking on the underside of my breast just hard enough that my clit throbs. It’ll leave a mark, and the thought makes me wetter.
It takes a minute for me to realize what she’s doing, but when I do, my heart starts to pound hard enough that I might pass out. She lowers to her knees, her hands roving up and down my back, grazing my ass a little more each time as she kisses my stomach. She swirls the tip of her tongue around my navel, then shifts to my hip bone.
I have one flash of good sense as my legs tremble.
“Wait,” I force out.
When she looks up at me, hazel irises nearly swallowed up by wide pupils, my pussy pulses.
Her chin rests just above my pelvis, her blonde hair is wet and pushed back off her pretty face, her soft skin glistens with sparkling water droplets, and the fabric of her bra is so transparent she might as well be naked.
I can see everything perfectly, and she looks like art. Like a painting I could spend hours appreciating. She’s so inherently beautiful, so painfully sexy, and I can barely form words.
