Chapter 29
twenty-nine
Marco leaves the door wide open as he disappears into the ensuite. Clear as day, I hear his tuxedo pants falling to the floor. As I hold my breath, the shower sputters to life, filling the room with the echo of rushing water.
Paralyzed by disbelief, I sit on the edge of his bed, my fingers still burning from his heated skin. My mind reels, trying to come up with excuses for his actions, all the reasons I must be misinterpreting what pretty clearly seems like an invitation to join him in the shower.
Past experience tells me there is no way he actually wants me.
But isn’t that the point of his challenge? Deciding if I can truly believe him?
I can still feel the pound of his heart against my palm, the way it leaped out to touch me through his flexing pectorals. And the hard throb of his erection, the heat of it radiating through his clothes and branding my thigh.
All of Tris’s warnings about men and their expectations run through my brain.
Oh my God, I think stupidly. He actually wants me.
My body rejoices, humming with renewed desire as I scramble to my feet. I make it halfway to the bathroom door before I realize…
Oh my God. He’s going to see me naked.
A spike of panic impales my lungs. No man has ever seen me totally naked… or even partially so, in the light. It was always dark, or I kept most of my clothes on.
Neither will work here.
I peek at the open door, assessing how bright the room will be.
From my vantage point, I see a long built-in counter, the same gauzy gray as his kitchen’s quartz.
A wide rectangular mirror fills the wall above sinks, reflecting the open door, a towel rack, and the corner of the shower’s fogged glass.
Glancing down at myself doesn’t help. In that moment of self-doubt, my form-fitting gown highlights all my insecurities. My belly, my thighs, the rolls at the back of my waist. What if he sees all of them and doesn’t want to see me naked ever again?
But, if I don’t get in the shower with him now… will I ever get another chance? Is this my one and only opportunity to experience some of the things I thought I’d never have? How will I ever forgive myself if I let it pass me by without even trying?
I won’t.
I can’t tell if my hands or my breathing shake harder. Either way, I force shallow gasps in and out while I squeeze my eyes shut and peel off my dress. I leave it in a pile beside the door, along with my panties.
Focus on Marco, I tell myself. He’s in there, naked, too. Naked and wet and covered in all those muscles…
Steam starts to billow over the glass enclosure, thickening the air. The scent of his body wash tightens my nipples, puckering them into buds. The pulse between my thighs sends tingles down my legs.
On an insane burst of lust-fueled bravery, I dart into the bathroom and open the shower door, revealing the large onyx tiles inside, along with the most gorgeous man to ever exist.
He is a statue come to life. Only better, because instead of dull stone, he’s all warm bronze skin.
With his back to me, my gaze works over the ripples and ridges of his massive shoulders, the slabs of muscle encasing his sides, his impossibly thick quads, and long, bulging calves.
Not to mention his bare butt—which is every bit as chiseled and tight as the rest of him.
Marco stands with his palms pressed flat to the dark tile in front of him, his face turned up, the hot water streaming down his body. With his eyes squeezed closed and his chest expanding on deep breaths, he appears to be fighting off some unpleasant emotion.
I want to comfort him. My hands reach out, landing on either side of his spine.
He stills for a beat as I slide them around his ribcage and step against his back.
Before I can consider retreating, he drops his head—whether to look at my hands on his abdomen or because he’s lost whatever internal battle he was waging, I don’t know.
“Alice…” His voice is low and gruff as he shifts away from the wall, clasping each of his enormous hands over mine and leaning into my embrace. “You feel incredible.”
I press my face against the center of his back, nuzzling all his strength. “So do you.”
My reply is so quiet, I barely hear it. But I know he will. He always does.
To calm my nerves, I concentrate on the feel of his large, hard torso, reading its cues.
Under our entwined hands, his chest moves too quickly, his breathing deep and fast. Soap slicks the skin under my palms. When I rub my hands over his abs, washing the ridges, he rumbles, the sound reverberating against my cheek.
I press closer, fitting my ungainly curves around the hard planes of his lower back… and the even firmer bow of his ass. As soon as I do, I feel the tension gripping him, the strain in his thighs.
It all clicks in my mind at once. He’s so hard, his entire core has seized up. It sends me over the edge. The last of my fear disappears, evaporated by the heat burning low in my belly.
Leaving his hands behind, I ghost mine down the sides of his torso, to the deep grooves carved into the firm flesh of his hips. Without my sight, I follow the lines until a dusting of coarse hair tickles my fingertips.
Marco grunts, the sound pained. “Alice, you don’t have to—”
I don’t let him finish. I can’t. I know if I don’t act now, I will never get the nerve up again. Before he gets his gallant words out, I cup his cock, fisting my right hand at the base and stroking up.
A tremor runs through him as a foreign word sloughs up his throat, rough with unbridled emotion. Encouraged, I replace my right hand with my left, moving them in tandem, drawing one all the way up to the wide, throbbing head while the other clings to the base of his shaft, waiting for its turn.
Against the side of my face, his back muscles swell on a pant. “Fucking hell,” he growls. “Alice.”
I feel feverish. Restless. My hips grind tight to his backside while his muscles flex on every tug, ticking against me.
He spreads a brawny hand on the tile, bracing himself, and reaches the other around both of our bodies to fondle my ass.
The second he touches me, a desperate, broken groan rips from his chest.
The serrated sound is tortured. So full of feeling, it tears at my heart. A familiar swell of tenderness floods me, the same one I felt when I saw his expression after I brought him dinner and made him tea.
I get the sense he’s rarely on the receiving end of selflessness. He takes care of others, but who takes care of him?
Me, I decide. I want it to be me.
I kiss the spot between his shoulder blades and rub my cheek against his spine, gentling him. “I won’t stop. I’ve got you.”
He swells in my hands, pulsing so hard I feel every separate throb, even with the warm water sluicing over our skin. I notice the way his hips jerk every time I close my thumb and the side of my forefinger over his wide tip and double down, adding the motion to each pull.
A powerful gasp explodes from his lungs. His head falls back. “Fuck, Alice, how did you—" He loses his words on a particularly powerful stroke, moaning over the rest of his question.
No one understands losing their words better than me. I press more kisses onto his bare skin, not wanting him to feel self-conscious. Besides, the fact that he can’t form a coherent thought feels like the sincerest form of flattery.
When his balls start tightening with every pass of my fingers, curiosity gets the best of me. I lean to the side, peeking around his broad back.
A fresh burst of molten heat trickles down my thighs as I take in the glorious length of his cock. It is slightly darker than the rest of him, with a thick purple head and veins beating up the sides.
An embarrassing mewl flies from my lips. I watch, fascinated, as my fists move in succession, rubbing him harder, only slowing to roll over the place where his shaft meets the tip with extra care.
Unable to bear the heavy tingles in my breasts, I rub my nipples against the side of him, moaning quietly at the sensation of our wet skin slipping together.
Marco likes it, too. The hand spread over one whole cheek of my ass clenches, his blunt nails biting into me while he groans my name again. Bucking forward, he sets a slightly quicker pace, and I follow, slipping down his length faster than before, squeezing the head on every pull.
Jagged breaths shudder out of him. I brush my lips over his shoulder, his spine, his side. When I wrap both fists around his cock and lightly suck just below his nape, his muscled frame locks down.
“I’m going to come,” he growls, pumping his hips harder. “Alice—God, baby—I’m going to come so hard.”
With one final nip of my teeth, I bend to watch while he finally unravels, sliding into my clutched hands one final time before spilling. His release gushes over my fingers, propelling thick bursts of white onto the black tile in front of us.
When he’s finished, I carefully let go, holding my hands out to let the water wash them before I hold him from behind.
Marco completely freezes, barely even breathing.