Chapter 22 - Dani
Dani
The steam rose in lazy curls, clouding the glass and what was left of my reason. I sat on the edge of the tub while the shower beat against the tile, already running hot, a steady hiss filling the room.
Clad in nothing but a white cotton bralette and matching underwear, I felt more exposed than if I’d been completely bare. “This is ridiculous,” I said. “You seriously want to shave my legs?”
“I already am,” he answered without missing a beat, pumping a squirt of shaving gel into his palm. “This will be easier if you stand.”
“Brooks—”
“Into the shower, kitten.” His gaze tracked over me, steady and unhurried. “Trust me. You know how good I am with my hands.”
This shouldn’t have affected me as much as it did.
Brooks had already seen all of me—every tattoo, every scar, every inch—but sitting there, damp heat clinging to my skin, I felt stripped down in a different way.
Naked, not just in body, but in the way his attention pressed into me, making it impossible to pretend I wasn’t trembling on the inside.
I stepped into the tub, letting the shower spray soak my back.
Brooks stayed where he was, on his knees at the edge of the porcelain, the steam beading against the ink sprawled across his chest and arms. He’d stripped down to nothing but his boxer briefs, the fabric stretched tight over muscles in a way that should’ve been illegal—and had me wet for reasons that had nothing to do with the water.
The sight punched the air from my lungs—this hard, powerful man kneeling in front of me like I was something worth worshiping. It made my skin prickle, not just from the heat, but from the weight of being seen like a goddess.
“Quit looking at me like that,” I muttered, cheeks burning hotter than the spray.
“Like what?”
My breath snagged when his palm wrapped around my calf, steadying me as if this weren’t the most intimate thing in the universe, trusting him with a sharp blade against my skin.
I swallowed. “Like I’m your next meal.”
His lips twitched, but his voice was soft, coaxing. “Best meal I’ve ever had, kitten.”
I glanced down, unable to resist, and there it was—the outline of his thick, hard cock straining against his briefs. The sight made my mouth go dry.
My pulse stuttered as he crouched lower, razor in one hand, my leg balanced in the other like I was something fragile and precious.
The first cool swipe of shaving cream across my shin sent goose bumps racing up my skin.
He smoothed it with deliberate care, his fingers spreading it in long strokes that felt more like foreplay than personal hygiene.
My breath hitched, my eyes glued to the way his tattooed forearm flexed as he steadied me.
Then came the blade.
Slow, gliding strokes over my skin with practiced precision, each of them unhurried. His knuckles brushed lightly against me with every pass. It shouldn’t have been so erotic, and yet my body hummed with it, every nerve stretched taut as I watched him work.
And still, it wasn’t enough.
“This is . . .” My throat was dry. “Weirdly hot.”
His eyes lifted, heavily-lidded, knowing. “It’s about to get hotter, kitten. Time for your thigh.”
He dragged the razor higher, thumb brushing dangerously close to where my thigh met the lace edge of my panties.
Heat licked through me, pooling low and heavy, until the words were on my tongue before I could stop them. “It might be easier if you take my panties off.” My voice came out husky, breathless.
“You sure?”
My lips parted, the word no on the tip of my tongue, only it didn’t feel like no. Not with him crouched there, looking at me like I was precious and breakable and something he wanted anyway. My pulse thrummed as I whispered, “Please. Take them off.”
That was all the permission he needed.
He slid the cotton down my legs, slow and reverent, and I lifted my hips without thinking, heat rushing to my face. When his eyes found mine again, something bold slipped into my chest, chasing away the nerves.
“Careful, coach,” I said, smirking to cover how wrecked I already felt. “You miss a spot, and I might post that photo of you scratching your balls in the dugout to the team’s social media pages.”
His grin was wicked, but his touch was anything but careless.
Each stroke of the razor was torture, knuckles grazing higher and higher until I was squirming, biting back sounds that shouldn’t belong to a woman getting her legs shaved.
The air between us thickened until it was nearly impossible to breathe.
When he finally finished and rinsed me clean, I tested the smoothness with my toes poised on his chest. “Damn, you’re really good at this.”
“Smooth as silk.” His gaze traveled up my body like a slow burn, pausing between my thighs. “Want me to keep going?”
The question stole the air from my lungs. My mouth opened, but no sound came out—just a shiver that raced down my spine and smacked me clean across the clit. Brooks waited, water slicking over the hard lines of his body, razor balanced in his hand like he had all the time in the world.
“You mean—”
His eyes dragged up to mine, patient but daring. “You know exactly what I mean, kitten.”
My thighs clenched instinctively, betraying me.
I could’ve said no. I could’ve laughed it off and made another joke about his ball-scratching photo, the one I had set as my phone’s wallpaper—anything to break the spell he had me under.
Instead, I felt my knees fall open another inch, giving him silent permission.
Brooks’s grin was slow and devastating. “That’s what I thought.”
He set the razor aside for a moment, lathering his big hands with more cream. The sight alone had me trembling. Those hands smoothed the foam higher, over skin no one had ever touched like this. It wasn’t crude or rushed, but rather reverent.
And as his thumb traced the tender crease of my thigh, edging my pussy lips, I realized I’d never been this exposed or undone.
I’d also never felt safer.
He lathered me again. The first stroke of the blade was steady, deliberate, skimming so close that my breath caught and held. Brooks’s hand anchored me, his palm spread firm over my hip as he guided the razor with precision.
Every pass left me trembling, heat spiraling tighter inside me. His knuckles brushed against my mound, grazing too close, too teasing, until I was squirming on the slick porcelain, my breath coming in ragged bursts.
“Easy,” he murmured, voice low and rough, his focus never wavering.
He tilted the razor just right, clearing another path, the cool drag of steel followed by the warmth of his thumb soothing the skin after. Torturously slow. Intimate in a way I had never experienced.
When he rinsed the blade under the spray, his fingers slipped back over me, spreading the gel lower this time. His touch wasn’t an accident—not when his thumb brushed against my clit, light as a ghost. The jolt had me biting down on a whimper, my whole body arching without permission.
“Brooks,” I breathed, desperate, trembling.
He glanced up through the rising steam, jaw tight. “Hold still, kitten. I don’t want to miss a spot.”
God help me.
His warning only made it hotter.
I could feel how close he was to losing control. His fingers slid over me again, spreading my folds open as the razor traced careful strokes along the softest parts of me. It was unbearable, the way I was laid bare for him, every inch on display.
By the time he rinsed the blade again, I was shaking, my body begging for more than careful strokes. And when his fingers lingered, rubbing foam away from my swollen clit with maddening gentleness, a choked sound tore from my throat.
“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, his thumb circling once, slow and sure. “You’re trembling, kitten.”
And he was right. I was trembling all over, not from fear, but from the sheer, impossible ache of wanting him to drop the razor and stuff me full of his fingers. Or tongue, or cock—hell, my drawer full of toys was just down the hall.
“Dani,” he asked, his voice thick with need. “Can I taste you?”
My whole body shuddered, nerves sparking hot under my skin. Fear and anticipation tangled in my chest, but my voice didn’t falter. “Please.”
Without missing a beat, he spread my thighs wide, the water streaming over me as his head dipped.
The first drag of his tongue through my cunt made me cry out, sharp and unrestrained, echoing against the tile.
I slammed back into the wall, my fingers flying to his hair, clutching tight as the vibration of his groan shivered straight through my core.
His tongue circled my clit, slow, deliberate, and the sensation was so good it bordered on unbearable. When he sucked me into his mouth, the pressure building low in my belly went molten.
“Fuck,” I gasped, grinding shamelessly against his face. “Right there.”
He anchored me with his hands on my thighs, holding me open, owning every frantic movement. “Soak me with that cream, kitten,” he rasped between licks, his mouth slick and hot against me. “Give me everything.”
After that, he gave up all pretense of control.
His tongue worked me mercilessly, flicking and swirling, his beard rough against my skin in a way that made me writhing harder, chasing every jolt of pleasure.
He sucked and licked like he hadn’t eaten in days, like he wanted to devour me from the inside out.
Nothing could muffle the frantic sounds spilling out of me—raw, desperate cries that didn’t sound like my voice at all—not even the shower spray.
He pushed a thick finger inside me, slow at first, stretching me, then curling until sparks detonated behind my eyes. I swallowed my scream when he added another finger, thrusting deep, keeping pace as his tongue mercilessly circled my clit.
He moaned with every taste, every drop. “God, Brooks, don’t you dare stop. Please.”
He didn’t. If anything, he got rougher, hungrier, hammering into me with his tongue and fingers until my vision blurred.