14. McKenna #2
I took my time washing my hair then moved to my body, lathering every inch of my skin in a thick sheet of bubbles. When I moved to my breasts, his lips pressed into a flat line.
“McKenna,” he gritted out.
I shook my head, running the body wash over my nipples. “Didn’t I tell you not to talk to me until you weren’t covered in another man’s blood? ”
All it took was the blink of an eye before he was peeling his clothes off, shucking his shirt to the floor and letting his belt buckle hit the tile with a loud clang.
Once fully unclothed, he opened the shower door and stepped in, not once taking his eyes off me as he closed it behind him and stepped in front of me, the spray of the water hitting my back.
Austin opened his mouth to speak and I gave him a silencing look, angling my chin down and darting my gaze to the blood smudged on his neck.
I grabbed a bar of soap off the shelf in the wall, holding it out to him.
As much as I wanted to feel every inch of his skin right now, it would only cloud my mind if I did.
Though, I think my thoughts were already skewed.
There was no way we were getting through this night without touching each other in some capacity.
And by the way he reluctantly grabbed the soap from me, it was obvious he was letting me set the pace.
How polite.
“I don’t think Marv was your stalker, but”—he ran the bar down his neck and around his shoulders—“you need to tell me if the signs stop or not.”
Each pass of the soap over his tan skin sent fireworks of heat careening through me, causing my thighs to clench. The slight movement was noticeable, I guess, because Austin’s eyes darkened.
“McKenna,” he said, voice gravelly.
I pulled my focus from his efforts at cleaning himself and met his gaze. “What signs?”
He frowned, lifting an arm to clean the back of his neck. The position only pained me more with the way it put his muscles on display and pulled the skin over his pecs tight.
Ugh .
“You know what I mean.”
Needing him to hurry this up, I reached up and plucked the bar from his grasp. “You’re terrible at this. Let me do it.”
“I’ve cleaned myself pretty well for the entirety of my life, thank you very much,” he defended, a little pride seeping into his tone.
“Yes, Austin. We all know you smell good.” I brought the soap to the side of his neck he’d missed, lightly scrubbing at the splotch of dried blood there. “But you’re terrible at cleaning murder off your hands.”
He smirked. “Haven’t had an issue so far.”
I narrowed my eyes at the now-clean spot on his neck, but I kept running it over the area. If I looked him in the eyes now, naked and standing so close together, I'd surely falter. “Best we don’t ruin that track record today.”
“Booker and Henley are taking care of it. No one is going to suspect me or you.”
His words didn’t register, and his skin where I was focusing my efforts was turning red.
What if the blood in my drain somehow led the murder back to me, and I was thrown in jail?
I didn’t look good in orange. Did they even offer hair ties in prison?
I’d have to get one in a care package, and I was sure Brynne would send the wrong color.
She wasn’t as good with pairing colors as I was. What even went with orange?
Two rough hands wrapped around mine, and I paused my movements. Slowly, my eyes moved to Austin’s, taking their time tracking over each inch of his skin. His jaw, his cheek bones, his mouth, his nose. But god, his eyes. They sucked me in with the way they’d softened.
This was exactly what I was trying to avoid.
“I’d never let anyone hurt you,” he murmured.
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
His brows pinched together, then realization hit him. “You think someone is going to believe you killed your boss?”
For some reason, his comment offended me. “I’m perfectly capable of that.”
The corners of his mouth twitched, like he thought this was funny. I mustered my best death glare and it wiped the amused look off his face instantly.
“There were people that saw us, Austin,” I reminded him. The cook was a major implication, for starters.
“For all they know,” he moved to hold my hands between our bodies now, both our stomachs brushing them as we breathed, “I dragged you back there to bang your brains out.”
I rolled my eyes. He hadn’t even brought me to the office. I’d—stupidly—gone on my own accord after ushering the patrons out of the diner. “That is so not hot, the way you just said that.”
He removed one hand, wrapping it around the back of my neck and pressing his fingers into the muscles there.
“What would you prefer I say, kitten?” He leaned in, bringing his nose to my cheek.
“That I brought you to the back to ruin this perfect little body of yours, fucking you senseless until you screamed my name?”
I tilted my chin up slightly, letting my eyes fall closed. His fingers felt so damn good digging into my tense muscles. “I’d never scream your name,” I whispered.
“No?” His nose tickled as he brought it to the tip of mine.
Subtly, I shook my head. “You’d have to be good at what you do to make me even mutter it.”
He inched forward, his lips brushing mine, but before he could kiss me, I fisted a hand in the hair at the base of his head and held him at bay.
He released a pained groan, and I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me. His jaw was clenched, like he was doing all he could to hold himself there.
“Tell me what to do, McKenna. I’m at your mercy.” Unspoken words hung on the end of his sentence, like he wanted to say that he was always at my mercy, and not only in this moment.
I loosened my hold on his hair, threading my fingers further through his damp strands.
And then I dropped my hand completely.
“Get on your knees.”