Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THANE
The toilet flushes, and a moment later, the water turns on in Lottie’s shower. “Seven minutes.”
It’s been two days since Lottie woke without a fever, but until she has her strength back, I’m not letting her out of my sight. That means I’m still timing her showers, and this is our new morning routine.
“Thane. I don’t know if you’re aware.” The shower door clinks shut. “But women do not shit, shower, and shave like men. Seven minutes isn’t even enough time to wash my hair.”
I smile—it’s one that starts in my chest, then pulls and tugs every inch of my body upward as if it’s reaching for the sun.
My sun is apparently Charlotte Sinclair.
“Six minutes.”
She doesn’t reply, and my shoulders sag closer to the one-inch gap in her bathroom door, straining to hear her. Water splashes, and I picture her rushing through her shower to meet my deadline.
Rafe would probably say this is a dick move, but he hasn’t been here with her. There were times when she wasn’t making any sense, and the only other time I’ve ever been that terrified was when Kara ran away.
These women in my life will send me to an early grave.
I’ve also decided that Charlotte can never get sick again. I add a mental note to ensure she’s vaccinated correctly every year.
A loud crash has every thought evaporating.
I lurch to my feet and burst through the bathroom door in a haze of fear. Scanning her head to toe, I’m unable to find an injury.
She’s upright, not crumpled to the shower floor with blood oozing from her skull as I expected, and she’s grinning. Fucking grinning while I search for hemorrhaging or compound fractures.
Shampoo, conditioner, and body wash lay on the floor. Did she fall into them and knock them over?
What am I missing?
I rip the shower door open, and it nearly comes off its hinges.
Water cascades in rivulets over every dip and curve of her perfectly intact body. No red spot, gashes, or bruises. No blood. Not even an indication that she’s lightheaded or off-balance.
She stands beautifully naked before me, wearing only a smile that instantly makes my cock harder than I ever recall it being.
“Oopsies.” It slips from her lush lips like a string tying my heart to hers. The word replays in my mind over again. And again.
Oopsies. Oopsies. Oopsies.
“Are you hurt?”
She bites the corner of her bottom lip and turns her head left, then right, never breaking our connection.
My cock throbs. It’s physically impossible not to see her gorgeous, perky tits with nipples that pebble like diamonds even though I’m focused on her face.
Peripheral vision is a blessing and a curse.
“Are you ill?”
Again, she shakes her head. Once to the left. Once to the right and no more.
“Are you lightheaded?”
“No.”
“Did you fall?”
“No, Thane. My lungs are heavy or full or something, but I’m not injured. I’m not faint, nor am I about to vomit. But I am naked.”
I scan her skin as though that were an invitation. Her flat stomach flares to perfectly proportioned hips that my fingers itch to squeeze. I want to press my large hands into her unmarred flesh and control her movements as she grinds against my cock. I swear my body is already primed and aching for her.
Looking lower, I groan at her bare pussy, slick from the shower water that streams down her front. Following the trail of water back to her tits, I memorize how it flows across her soft skin, parting at her hardened nipples and running back into one stream as it follows the valley of her waist, down her stomach, over her hip bones and back to her clit that I know is just out of sight.
“You’re naked.”
“I am.” She arches her back, and I flex my hands at my sides. She stands like an offering, a sacrifice, a fucking temptation I can’t refuse. She’s Eve, her body the apple, and I’m the weak man who will happily taste that forbidden fruit.
“Charlotte. What are you doing?”
She bends over and lifts a purple bottle from the floor. Her tits sway like sweet peaches I want to reach out and pluck.
“Showering.” There’s innocence in her eyes but destruction in her body language.
She will be my downfall, and I’m powerless to stop it.
“Charlotte.” Her name roars and rumbles from my whole chest.
She pours a purple soap into her hand that instantly fills the room with the scent of lilacs. I stand rooted to the spot, clenching the shower door so tightly it might shatter, as she painfully slowly brings her hands to her chest.
She moves down and cups her breasts in both hands, then pinches her nipples as suds form on her wet skin.
Every inch of me vibrates with a need so powerful that one touch from her would send me crumbling to the floor like ancient ruins.
Her right hand dips down to her belly, over her hip, and stops when her fingertips tremble at the top of her pubic bone.
My gaze snaps to hers. She’s still biting her lip, but now there’s something else in her expression. What the fuck is it? I can’t begin to make my brain work. She’s short-circuited every tool I’ve ever had. Even my narrator sits in my head with his tongue hanging out, unable to form a single word.
Vulnerable. The word echoes from somewhere deep in my memory. She’s vulnerable. How can she not be? She’s standing before me, gloriously naked, running soapy hands over her entire body.
Her cheeks tinge pink, and the lovely shade creeps down her neck to the tops of her tits.
I want dress shirts in that color. One for every day of the week, so I never forget how beautiful she is in this moment.
“What do you need, sweetheart?”
Her teeth are leaving an indent in her bottom lip—the surrounding skin flushing white.
“I think…” she whispers.
I lean forward, my feet planted on the outside of the shower while my chest is close enough for water droplets to bounce off her skin and onto mine.
“What I need.”
I stop breathing, afraid that even a sharp inhale would drown out her words.
“Is you.”
I think…what I need…is you.
That’s what she said.
I think…what I need…is you.
Like the pins in a lock, my body rolls and moves and fits together in a way it never has before until finally, finally, all my pieces click into place, freeing me to reach for this beautiful, aggravating, sexy, strong woman before me.
Mine. It echoes through my thoughts, the only prayer I’m capable of.
I hold the sides of her face and remind myself to be gentle, but my lips crash against hers in a bruising kiss that fills me with my first taste of freedom.
That’s what she is—she’s the key that unlocks the puzzle of me.
Her arms wrap around my waist, under my arms, until her nails dig into my shoulder blades.
My tongue invades her mouth, seeking, tasting, exploring because she holds all the truths I’ve been searching for my entire life. She pieces me together in a way that makes words like normal and different flee my vocabulary. Her touch makes me feel so fucking powerful I know I could do anything from stop wars to move mountains with her by my side.
Charlotte’s teeth sink into my bottom lip, and she tugs, a low, sexy moan escaping her throat when I press her against the cool tile and hold her there with my hips.
She’s sick. She’s sick. She’s sick,. my narrator weakly announces, unsure if he wants to be a traitor or a participant.
A shuddering breath courses through me as I shiver and pull my lips away from hers. Foreheads pressed together, we gasp for the same air, but her body refuses to remain still. Her hips roll against mine, and she arches her back a fraction of an inch, pressing her chest closer.
“You’re sick.”
“I’m not. I’m so, so much better.”
“Sweet little liar.”
“Fine, I’ve been sick, but I swear, I am better. I need this, I want this. I want you to touch me, and if you say you don’t want that too, I’m going to die of embarrassment. So if that’s the case, please walk out of this room and down the stairs so I can handle the shame in private.”
“You’re delusional.” She has no idea how badly I want her. My hands want to take her words at face value, even though I’ve been witness to her illness. I know I should back off and let her rest. She’s not one hundred percent yet.
“And you’re freaking irritating.”
My chest lights up with happiness again. “You’re not the first person to tell me I’m irritating, and you certainly won’t be the last. But I can for sure say you’re the only one who makes me want to make you eat your words by fucking you hard and fast against a shower wall.” Even as I tease her about being my liar, she’s never truly lied about something important.
“Yes, please.” Her lashes flutter against the creamy skin of her cheeks.
She’s perfect.
I’ve always dominated in the bedroom. Women can be unpredictable, and roaming hands make my dick deflate.
Around Charlotte, my dominant nature growls with a possessiveness that’s unlike any other experience. Her wandering touch isn’t an irritant against my skin—it’s a torture of pleasure I can’t get enough of.
I might even enjoy her unpredictable nature—the way her hands mold to my form as though she’s a part of me. I want to bury my cock between her legs and never leave.
“You make it nearly impossible to do the right thing here,” I say.
She glides her hands down my back and slips them beneath the elastic holding my sweatpants up.
My hips involuntarily rock into her, causing a harmony of our moans to meld together.
She slips lower, pushing down my pants as she goes.
“Charlotte,” I growl against her skin. I’m not sure when my lips landed on her slender neck, but she holds me to her like glue without ever touching my head.
“I promise you I’m okay, and I promise I want you. Do you—do you want me?” When her hands freeze on my backside, I lift her face to mine.
“Always. I will always want you.”
“You can’t make that promise, Thane, but if you want me now, here?—”
“Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do, sweetheart. It will only make me dig my heels in deeper, and I’m already in so deep with you that no number of life preservers will ever be able to drag me to the surface.”
No more talking. No more questions or fears. She wants me. She wants me, and I’ve always taken what I want.
Lifting her with my hands under her thighs, I press her against the wall, reach beside her and turn off the water, then kick off my pants and carry her to her bed.
“Thane, I’m soaking wet.”
I toss her onto the bed to watch her bounce.
“Exactly what I’m going for.”
She licks her lips as I approach, her breaths syncing with every slow stroke of my cock. “I thought you wanted me hard and fast against the shower wall?”
She’s a goddamn vixen, a siren, and after today, she’ll be all mine in every way.
“Lie back.” My voice is deeper and more impatient than I’ve ever heard it, but she follows my directive beautifully. “Show me how you get yourself off.” I drag the folding chair I was using for my makeshift office to the foot of her bed and sit, still lazily stroking my weeping dick.
“Thane,” she whines, but instead of annoying me, it makes me even harder. “Please,” she begs.
“Already begging, sweetheart? I told you it would happen.”
“Cocky son of a bitch.”
“Actually, my mother was a very pleasant woman.”
She lifts her head from the pillow to glare at me. “That’s not what I… Argh.” She crashes back to the mattress, and I chuckle. “You want to see how I get myself off? Fine. But don’t think for one minute that you’re going to participate until I’m finished.”
Holy shit. She’s managed to turn the tables on me, and I never saw it coming.