Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
The water clinging to CJ’s chest and shoulders sparkles like silver beads in the steamy darkness and his eyes are tense with desire. With longing.
For me. The quirky shy girl with her heart constantly on fire and her courage so often misplaced. The girl who would go to battle to save something sacred but who can’t seem to save herself.
Is this another example of my misaligned trust? Or is this really happening to me?
Beneath the water, CJ’s hand finds my waist. Though I’m plenty warm from the soak, a tremor hums beneath my skin, making my thighs flex and an ache spiral tighter inside me.
He brushes my cheek with the backs of his knuckles, then traces the side of my neck, his hungry gaze sweeping down to the top of my exposed chest and shoulders, then back up.
With my breaths coming quicker in my throat, I close my eyes as he leans down, his soft lips brushing against mine, his mustache making my skin buzz. I embrace his mouth, savoring the needy groan rumbling up his throat when I bite down just a little.
His grip on my waist glides up, slowly, while his other hand cradles the back of my neck, his thumb sweeping past the column of my throat.
Needing to steady myself, I grasp his waist with both hands.
It’s even better than that night we made out in the back of the Sweetwater—his body is lean and taut, strong.
I want more of it. More of everything. Is it too much?
Our tongues meet. Gentle, almost sweet, but he quickly deepens the kiss, and it’s my soft groan in his mouth this time.
He caresses up the side of my waist, tracing my curves and up each of my ribs while our kisses turn hungry, until he strokes beneath my breast. A quiver dances over my skin and that same emptiness inside me cramps.
I grip him tighter at his waist, inviting him.
His tongue dances with mine, exploring, teasing, as he strokes my nipple with his thumb.
I suck in a breath and try to soak in all the sensations flooding my body at once.
The soft flicking of his tongue and the delicious prickle from his mustache.
His sensual touch. The way both make it easier to soften the wild thoughts running nonstop through my head.
My worries and doubts. Fears I haven’t quite figured out how to quiet.
The water swishes around us like a caress as he strokes and circles my breasts with his fingertips and the curve of his palms. The friction from his calluses combined with his needy sighs against my lips make it impossible not to touch him too.
When I rub down his stomach and past his erection, he hisses in pleasure into my mouth.
But when I wrap my hand around him, he gently pulls my hand away and urges me backward.
There’s no sitting bench on this side of the tub, but he lifts me by my thighs so my back is pressed against the wet wood and my legs wrap around his middle.
My pussy makes contact with the tight muscles of his abdomen.
A needy growl escapes my lips, and I can’t help arching my body to get him just a little bit closer.
The craving for his mouth on me everywhere twists inside my core, urgent, with that edge of recklessness that makes me blow right past my worry about giving him too much of myself so soon.
Maybe that’s testing my own limits, but in this moment, I can’t seem to care.
Not with the way he’s gripping my thighs and kissing his way down my neck.
Like he’s taking his time. Like I’m worth savoring.
I comb through his hair, delighting in the slippery, wet curls between my fingers. When his soft tongue circles my nipple, I can’t hold back my whimper or the tilting of my hips. Because I want more but I’m afraid the words will sound clumsy.
He wraps his lips around me, still so gentle but sensual, like he’s keeping his promise about taking his time. As slow as I please.
God, did he mean it?
When he moves to my other breast, I rock even closer to him while lifting my face to the sky so the snowflakes melt on my cheeks, their cold kiss the perfect antidote to the heat coiling so fast inside me. Sweet heaven, this man is going to unravel me.
His teeth graze my tingling skin, and then he’s kissing his way up my neck, sucking on the place where my pulse is galloping, his lips warm and full and his beard heightening my awareness, hooking my attention.
My fingers tighten in his hair, making him groan.
“I need you to touch me.” My words tumble free in a whispered rush.
He hums against my neck. “I have a better idea.”
Before I can make sense of what he means, he lifts me to the edge of the tub. The sudden rush of the cold air on my superheated skin comes as a delightful shock, and I jolt, my breaths fast and shaky in my chest. “What are you doing?”
With his eyes on me, he caresses up my legs, his thumbs tracing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “Think you can keep quiet?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Would you rather go inside?” He tilts his head, a devilish look in his eye.
“No.”
“Good girl.” His praise is low and sultry, making my toes curl. “Because I’ve been dreaming of tasting your pussy since I first kissed you.” Pleasure sparks behind my breastbone, further dampening my doubts.
He kisses the top of my thighs while gently stroking them open, his touch slow and sensual. Snowflakes melt on my breasts and shoulders like icy caresses from the night sky, like I’m floating in stardust. I grip the side of the tub for balance as he kisses his way up my inner thigh.
“Oh, sweet darlin,” he says tenderly, stroking me with the flat of his thumb. “You’ve been wanting me here all night, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” I whimper, my fingers tightening on the edge of the tub.
He gives me one wicked caress of his tongue. It’s warm and silky where I’m hot and already so desperate. The added friction from his beard makes it almost unbearable.
“Fuck, you taste good.” He gives a low groan, gripping my thighs, like he needs to keep me in place. “Tell me what you like.”
Panting, I try to catch the words from my spinning thoughts. “Everything.”
He hums against me, gently circling my clit. “Here, or…” He caresses down and sinks two fingers inside me. “Here.”
The pleasure is exquisite and so powerful all I can do is suck in a gasp.
“Use your words, Linnea.” He nips my inner thigh.
Maybe it’s my full name rolling past his sultry lips or the firm tone, but it leaves no room for hesitation. “Your mouth, and your fingers.”
“Fuck.”
He strokes and glides exactly how I need it, my core tightening like a knot, made of desperation and a powerful, wild craving. “Oh,” I whimper, one hand flying to his hair because I have to hold on, have to keep him close. So I don’t shatter to pieces.
“So needy for my mouth, hmm?” He strokes some magical place inside me while the added friction from his mustache drives me insane.
“CJ,” I breathe. “Please.”
His low purr of appreciation vibrates through me. I rock into him, urging him faster, my breaths sharp and fast. He alternates sucking my clit between his lips and stroking with his tongue, the pressure relentless and so incredibly good.
I close my eyes and give myself to the insatiable need coiling so tight inside me, until it snaps. Pleasure rocks through me, sweet and bright. I grip his hair as he rides each wave with me, like he’s not ready for this to end.
When the pleasure ebbs, I roll forward just as he lifts me by the waist and brings me close, the warm water enveloping us as he holds me tight.
Still panting, I relax in his embrace, my arms draped over his shoulders and my face buried in his neck.
His fast, firm heartbeat against my ribs grounds me in the best way. Reminds me that this isn’t a dream.
“I’m not ready for this night to end,” he says, caressing down my back.
He might as well be cradling my fragile heart in his hands. “Me neither.”
He kisses my temple, then carries me to the steps and out of the tub.
“Where are we going?” Not that I care right now.
“There’s a whole house here. Let’s explore, yeah?”
He wraps me in my towel then whips his around his waist. Now that we’re out of the water, I can clearly see the outline of another tattoo at his hip.
It looks like a compass rose with script arcing around to his lower back, with something else—part of a mountain, maybe?
That night at the Sweetwater, it must have been too dark, and his shirt hem would have covered most of it.
I can’t help reaching out to caress the design. “What are the words?”
“It’s a line from a poem.”
I could get drunk just looking at the perfection of him in this low light.
His chest is muscular and broad, the lean, firm line of tendons forming a V that frames the silky trail of hair leading from his navel.
Add in the tattoos and he looks like the bad boy I should steer clear of.
But he’s not like that at all. He’s tender and soft in ways that are so unexpectedly beautiful it makes my heart ache inside my chest.
“Must be a special poem.”
His smile dims but his eyes shine like silver. “Happy to share it sometime.”
I reach for his hand and stroke over the rough rose. “Is this from the same one?”
He links his fingers with mine, then brings my knuckles to his lips, his beard tickling just enough to make me ache for him all over again. “Different.”
Maybe it’s the cold air finally getting to me, or maybe it’s the undeniable craving for his body against mine, but a ripple of goosebumps washes down my arms and back.
As if he’s noticed, he frowns. “Let’s get you warm. A hot shower sound good? We can rinse off the chemicals too.”
“That does sound good.” Especially the “we” part. I bite my lip as he leads me through the sliding glass door. It’s warmer in here, but not enough to keep another shiver from rattling down my spine.