Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Dear God, he was ripped. Muscles molded over his wide shoulders and defined pecs. His perfectly cut abdominals tapered to a tantalizing V that disappeared along a happy trail, beneath his briefs. His wet, clinging briefs.
How was it she was only now seeing him without a shirt on?
She hadn’t noticed in the ocean. It had been dark, and she’d been too busy trying to breathe, but now…now, standing under the hot stream of the shower, she looked her fill.
She studied him like she would an exquisitely chiseled statue in an art museum, letting her attention drift slowly over every part of his sculpted, toned body. Tattoos covered his arms and torso entirely.
She sensed his gaze on her as she took in the elaborate designs.
Some were beautiful. Detailed roses with long stems and thorns, petals drifting like they were floating down his rib cage.
Others were sinister and terrifying. Skulls with dark hollowed sockets, and horrifying grimaces.
Throughout, unfamiliar symbols wove through the tapestry.
But the most intricate design was a large cross on the center of his chest, tangled in the thorny vines that grew from the roses. Detailed, intertwined, and...haunting.
When her attention landed on his left pec, her breath caught at the words hidden in the weave.
“Your sins are like scarlet,” she whispered over the rush of the shower. Glancing up, she caught the tight clench of his jaw, the way his eyes darkened, but he said nothing.
Her focus returned to the beautifully handwritten scripture etched onto his pec, right above his heart.
Absent-mindedly, she let her finger trace the first letters, but when he flinched under her touch, she froze, her gaze flying back to his.
When was the last time someone touched him there? Had anyone ever?
“Is this okay?”
Whatever the reason he had the partial verse etched onto his skin, it was obviously deeply personal. As stunning as he was standing there with his strong body exposed and vulnerable, she didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. She knew how quickly admiration could blur into entitlement.
His expression was tight, lips pinched, nostrils flaring as he breathed. The muscle in his jaw ticked steadily, like he was clenching his teeth so hard he might crack a molar.
She held her breath until he said, “Yeah. It’s okay.”
The way the words ground out of him, she was pretty sure it was the farthest thing from okay he’d been in years. But when she pulled her hand away, he caught it gently and guided it back to his chest.
“Please.” He sounded tortured. “I need you to.”
Trusting him as much as she was trusting herself, she refocused on the tattoo and the scars around it. Gently, she traced the inked words, then let her fingers glide around the six round, indented scars beneath them.
A dozen suspicions flew through her mind as her fingertips dipped into the shallow grooves, but in the end, all she said was, “Isaiah.”
“1:18,” he confirmed, his words a low, gravelly rumble beneath the hiss of the shower spray.
There was so much to say. So many questions raced through her mind.
Why did he have the biblical verse permanently etched across his heart? And why was half of it missing? What were the scars from?
There were others too. A silvery jagged line that slashed diagonally across his left ribs, distorting the tattoos there. An angry, puckered, circular scar that sat in the dip of his shoulder. Her gaze traveled back up to the scar that bisected his eyebrow, then to his eyes.
The air between them was weighted, thick with vulnerability. Painful and yet, somehow, his vulnerability sent a rush of heat spiraling low in her belly.
Could he see how much she wanted him? Did he feel the same? She flattened her palm against his chest, sliding it across the inked skin that was slick with water. He tensed all over.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted, a rush of blood heating her cheeks. “That was too much, I shouldn’t have—” She moved, but he caught her around the wrist, stilling her.
“It was the opposite.” Water dripped from his firm chin. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths. He held her hand flush against his lower abdomen.
Had any person ever wanted someone the way she wanted Jordan right now? She couldn’t imagine it. Her heart was about to combust with its wild thumping.
Slowly, he edged her farther inside the shower, until she was pressed against the glass wall. Reaching above her, he grabbed a bottle and squeezed liquid onto his palm. She eyed him warily when he lifted his hand above her head.
“Relax, it’s only shampoo.”
She didn’t bother hiding her surprise. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
His amused chuckle did nothing to ease her apprehension, but then his hands caressed her head, silencing her next quip.
He massaged the shampoo methodically through her hair, his long fingers drawing the suds down the length. She didn’t want to overanalyze where or how he’d learned to do this. When he massaged the base of her neck, she stopped thinking altogether.
“Tip your head back.” Had his voice always been that sexy? Yes. Yes, it had. She’d just spent too much of her energy pretending it didn’t affect her. She did as he’d requested until the water streamed down the sides of her temples.
“Good girl,” he murmured gruffly against her ear, and she quietly surrendered to him.
He rinsed the shampoo from her hair, tugging slightly as he drew the foam from the ends. He repeated the process with conditioner, and by the time he was done, she was so warm and relaxed she melted against him with a soft sigh.
“Almost finished,” he murmured. He must have sensed her inability to keep herself upright, because he wedged a knee between her legs, and she half sat down on his thigh while he squirted body wash onto a sponge.
The sensation of her pussy sliding against his thigh, while he circled the sponge along her lower back, was heaven.
Her hips rolled along his rough skin in slow but sure strokes, and her eyes drifted shut.
“Vanessa?”
When she met his gaze, his eyebrows lifted. No words were needed, she knew what he was asking. This didn’t have to end in the shower.
Her nod held no doubt or hesitation. She’d never wanted anything more.
He sponged her arms, and she fought back a shiver of pleasure, but when he moved over her collarbone, she gave in to it. Everything about his gentle touch was like fire licking her skin, heating her from the inside and chasing away the chill she’d picked up from the ocean.
After he was done with her arms, he dragged the sponge down her side to her hipbone, then across her lower belly before tracing it up her other side. He washed her slowly and carefully, his pine-scented soap blending with the steam and salty ocean breeze.
Surely, he couldn’t be as unaffected as she was.
A quick peek at his groin told her the answer.
She was definitely not alone in her feelings.
The thick ridge of his erection pressed against the wet fabric of his briefs, making her want nothing more than to strip away the remaining barriers between them.
Trusting her instincts was still unfamiliar territory.
The past few years had been so full of missteps and bad choices that she’d stopped believing in her own judgment.
But over the last four weeks, something had shifted.
She was finding her footing again. A lot of that change, she knew, was because of Jordan.
So, she told herself not to overthink it as she reached behind her and unclipped her bra.
Jordan fixated on the movement, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Vanessa—”
“I normally don’t shower with my clothes on,” she said slowly. “Do you?”
When he inhaled sharply and shook his head, she let the material fall down her arms to the tiled floor. Her breasts tingled as the water sprayed over them, her nipples pebbling, but it wasn’t because of the cold this time.
She was scorching. Desperate. Needy.
Jordan stepped back, the low, rumbling sound he made hitting its target low in her belly.
Without taking his eyes off her, he dragged the sponge torturously over her breasts, rubbing it over her left nipple, before moving to the right.
The sensation was so incredible, she let her head fall back against the shower wall. “That feels so good.”
When he trailed the sponge down her stomach, and over her underwear, teasing, she didn’t miss a beat. Catching his eye, she dared him, “Do it.”
“I—” His hesitation was almost amusing.
She watched as his chivalry warred with his desire. Every hard line of his body mirrored her own primal lust. He looked like a lion ready to pounce. She was so fucking ready for it.
“Take them off,” she ordered.
Something in him snapped at her command, his hesitation evaporating as he dropped the sponge and grasped her hips, dipping his fingers inside the top of her panties before pulling them tight around his fingers. The sensation against her pussy was unbelievable.
With one swift tug, he crushed her flush against him, the thick line of his cock pressing hard against her belly.
Oh Lord, it was huge. He was huge. A lusty moan escaped her lips, despite her attempt to bite back the sound.
“You want me to pull them down, princess?” he growled against her ear.
“Yes,” she begged.
“Then ask me nicely.” His voice was deep and dominant, and it called to every part of her soul.
“Please.” She drew the word out on a long, breathy moan. She ran her fingers along his jaw and over his shoulders.
“Please what?” he whispered against her ear.
She made a choking sound, and he gripped her underwear tighter, the fabric squeezing her sensitive flesh. The moan she let out was lewd and needy.
“Do you want me to fuck your pretty pussy with my tongue again?”
“Ye-es,” she whimpered. “Please.” If he didn’t, she might explode on the spot.
His answering chuckle was hot against her cheek. “If I’d known this is what it would take for you to be polite with me, I would have pulled these panties down long ago.”
“Then do it already.”
He turned to tug the barn door closed, encasing them in the heated, steamy shower. When he sank to his knees, his eyes held hers the entire time.
Dear Lord, the way this man looked on his knees was something she’d never get over for as long as she lived. If this man thought she was changing her mind tonight, he was dead wrong.
“Don’t you dare stop,” she told him.
He chuckled as he slowly dragged the fabric of her underwear down.
When she stood before him completely naked, she rubbed her hands over his head. “Nobody has ever made me feel like you do.” Maybe it was too much. Too honest. Too raw for this moment, but it was the truth. Her breath caught as she waited for his response.
When it came, it was a rumbled curse before his mouth found her, and every other thought exited her brain.
His warm tongue stroked her sensitive flesh, big hands pinning her to the shower wall.
Part of her longed for the cold ocean air to blow in.
Anything to cool this fire burning through her veins.
The onslaught of sensations had her barreling toward release. When she gripped his head tighter, he hummed low in his throat, the vibration thrumming through her, and her moan was so loud it echoed through the shower stall.
So close. How did he have her so freaking close already?
And then he pulled away. She cried out at the loss of him.
“Easy.” He kissed her bellybutton. “I’ve waited a long time for this moment, so we’re not rushing anything.”
“Why are you torturing me?”
He smiled. “Because you’ve been torturing me for months. Now that I have you, for however long that is, I’m not sprinting to the finish.”
For however long that is. She’d barely processed those words when he leaned back and said, “Now try not to be a greedy girl and come before I tell you. Do you think you can do that?”
He shot her a knowing smirk, and she grinned, because they both knew she wasn’t making that promise.
“I’ll do my very best, Zeus.” She placed her hand over her heart.
With a shake of his head, he lifted her leg over his shoulder and laid his palm flat against her lower abdomen before placing his hot mouth on her.
His tongue swirled over her clit in agonizing circles, his teeth occasionally scraping lightly, sending an electric sensation bulleting through her entire core.
She dug her heel against his back, drawing him as close as she could.
When the fingers from his free hand snaked inside her and rubbed the spot behind her lower belly, she chanted his name like it was the only one she knew.
“I’m going to come. Tell me I can come.” Never had she ever experienced this much this fast. It was like their past few months of tormenting each other had been a kind of foreplay, and now she was about to combust with an orgasm that could very possibly have nuclear impact. “Please, Jordan.”
He said nothing, simply continued his ministrations with his fingers and tongue, but his palm pressed more firmly against her lower belly, pressing against the finger he had inside her. The pressure made it impossible for her to hold on any longer.
As a scream of release built at the base of her throat, her head tipped back in preparation. She was almost scared of what was about to explode inside her. Almost.
And then he drew back, dropping her leg from his shoulder, and her knees nearly buckled at the loss.
“No,” she sobbed.
“Fuck, look at you.” His voice was a hazy echo breaking through her unspent pleasure.
She watched through half-closed eyes as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
“It’s taking everything in me not to fuck you against this wall right now.”
“Then do it!” she pleaded. She grabbed his shoulders, urging him up. Her body pressed close, wanting to become a part of him, to be absorbed by him. Desperately, her mouth sought his. When their lips collided, she could taste herself on him.
“See how good it is?” His breath was ragged. “The most addictive thing I’ve ever had.”
He didn’t give her time to reply. His mouth came back to hers, his kiss hard, even more demanding, and she realized whatever desire she had for him, his was equally strong.
Then he finally tore away, but not for long. He grabbed a towel, scooped her up in it, and carried her through the connecting door to the bedroom.