Chapter 17 Cam #2
I hold her gaze even if it means she can see how strongly being this close to her is affecting me.
Because it most definitely is. It would be impossible to be near this woman naked, wet, and so fucking beautiful like this with her stomach full with new life.
“Let me help you, Ivy. You can hate me all you want after, I promise.”
She sucks in another sharp breath, watching as I gently run my hands up and down her legs, coating them in the shaving cream and desperately trying not to notice how she reacts to my touch.
Her body tenses, then starts trembling so hard I have to grip her thigh to keep it steady.
Our gazes stay locked for a moment, until I’m forced to look away to break the intensity of it that might make me say or do something foolish.
I pull my hands from her skin and rinse them before grabbing the razor and glancing back up at her. “Don’t move.”
Because I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.
I’ve never shaved a woman before, and the way my hands are shaking, I probably shouldn’t even be attempting it right now. Because if I hurt her more than I already have, I don’t think I could survive it.
She bites her bottom lip as she watches me, and I press the razor against her right ankle and slowly glide it up, holding my breath the entire time.
Somehow, I manage to make it up the smooth expanse of her thigh without breaking skin, and I release a relieved breath as I finally pull it away to rinse it under the water pounding against my back.
I rinse off the razor and shave another strip.
And another.
Another.
With each one, I grow a little less worried that I’m going to maim her, and I cautiously make my way around one leg, then the other. Trying to concentrate on keeping my strokes long and slow rather than the aggressive, determined ones I use when painting—or fucking.
Ivy trembles, her muscles tensing and quivering directly in front of my face in a way that ignites heat in very inappropriate places.
She’s very wet.
And very naked.
And incredibly fucking beautiful.
And right in front of me.
So fucking close I could lean an inch and have my face buried in her sweet cunt.
But that isn’t what this is about.
It’s about ending her distress, offering her what I can, even when it’s woefully inadequate.
Another apology in the only way I know how to offer it…
When I’m finally done and have washed the remnants of the shaving cream off her smooth skin, I look up at her and offer the tiniest smile.
She lets her lip fall from between her teeth and glances down, but I know she can’t see much of anything because of her growing stomach. Her hand drifts to the dark thatch of hair at the apex of her legs, and air catches in my throat on a strangled groan.
Fuck…
I swallow thickly and stare up at her. Water clings to her thick, dark lashes, but I can’t tell whether it’s from the shower or her tears.
Likely a combination of both.
But—at least for the moment—her tears have stopped.
Only what’s replaced them is even more dangerous.
Another distressing need swims in her heated gaze.
I rest my hand over hers, skimming my thumb through the hair covering her pussy. “Do you want me to shave you here, too?”
The tiniest whimper slips from her lips, and she nods.
Sweet. Fuck.
Ivy knows what she’s asking, yet she’s asking it anyway.
I let out a long breath, trying to stop my heart from pounding and my hands from trembling before I take on this monumentally stupid task.
Of all the dumb things I’ve done in my life, this has to be right near the top of the list.
Because touching her like this will completely undo me.
I’m barely hanging on by a thread as it is, and after last night, my body craves this woman more than I ever thought possible.
But I somehow manage to rein myself in enough to tap the top of the bench to my right. “Put your leg up here.”
She nods and lifts her foot there, spreading herself open and fully exposing her cunt to me.
My hard cock twitches in the confines of my jeans, now far too tight.
Fucking. Hell.
Even like this, near the verge of emotional breakdown, she’s still beautiful.
The scent of her arousal mingles with that of the shaving cream as I lean in and spread it across that most sacred place. My fingers brush over her mound, the crease between her pelvis and thighs, and down across her pussy lips, making her twitch in my hold.
I still my hand and glance up at her, but her eyes are closed, head tipped back against the tile wall.
And I know that look.
It’s the same one I saw before I railed her on the canvas.
When I pulled her leg over my shoulder and tasted her…
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
The emotions warring inside me fight for supremacy—the part of me that has always been so fucking addicted to this woman begging for me to take while my head keeps telling me to give her what she needs.
But neither of those things can happen.
Not now.
Not ever again.
I grab the razor and get to work, worried about what my hands might do if I don’t have something in them. Slowly and methodically, I shave every inch of her skin until she’s completely smooth and my cock leaks.
Her legs tremble, her hands pressed flat to the tile as if she’s struggling to keep herself up, and when I finally pull back, she opens her eyes and looks down at me with absolute heat burning in them that has nothing to do with the temperature of the water or the steam filling the air.
She needs something more than help with this.
She needs something she’s afraid to ask for because we both know it’s a terrible idea to cross that line again.
I set down the razor, rinsing my hands but never taking my eyes off her. “I told you I’d do anything for you, Ivy. Give you anything you need. Anytime. Anywhere. Forever. That all you had to do was ask…”
She shifts restlessly but keeps her leg up on the bench, spread open directly in front of my face like a goddamn gift from a god who wants to torture me in the worst way possible—with the one thing I should never touch again. “Please, Cam.”
The waver in her voice makes mine come out harsher, filled with all the reservations keeping me frozen in place. “Please what?”
Her gaze stays locked on mine, her determination darkening it as her hips roll forward in offering. “Make me come. Make me forget. Make me…” A droplet of water slides down her cheek, and this time, I’m confident it’s a tear because her voice cracks with her plea. “Make it okay.”