Chapter 20
LILA
Ethan’s warm and steady beside me on the bed, and I don’t want to move. But eventually, I do.
“Ethan.”
He rumbles into my skin. “Hm?”
“We need to shower,” I say, voice hoarse. “I’m not sleeping like this.”
He laughs ruefully. “You’re the one who couldn’t wait.”
“You’re the one who followed me to bed like you owned it.”
“I do.”
I glance back at him, and the look in his eyes tells me he means it.
Still, I untangle from him, slow and sore, feeling every place he touched. My legs are shaking when I stand, and he steadies me with one hand on my hip.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” I smile, dizzy from everything we just did. “Come with me.”
I pad into the bathroom, turning on the water before I let myself think. The sound of it echoing in the tiled space helps clear the haze a little. He follows without a word, standing behind me as the steam starts to rise.
I step under the spray first, closing my eyes, letting the warmth wash over me. It runs down my chest, over my thighs, rinsing away the slickness, the sweat, the evidence of just how much I gave him.
He steps in a moment later, arms brushing mine. His eyes are on me—hungry still, but softer now. I take the soap in hand and lather it up slowly, working it into my palms until it’s thick and slippery.
He watches as I spread it over my breasts, fingers slow, massaging the suds into my skin. His gaze drops as I move lower, dragging the foam down my belly, between my thighs, washing the mess he made of me with slow, careful pressure.
“You’re trying to kill me,” he mutters.
I grin, flicking a glance up at him through wet lashes. “Just getting clean.”
He doesn’t look clean. He looks like he’s two seconds away from pinning me against the wall again.
I hand him the soap next. “Your turn.”
He raises a brow but lets me take over.
I lather his chest first—broad and hard, slick under my fingers. I drag my hands down his abs, then around his sides, watching the way his muscles tighten beneath the touch.
He’s still soft, relaxed, breathing steady.
I step closer.
My fingers trail lower, wrapping around him, lathering lazily.
He hardens instantly.
His jaw tenses. His breath catches. His eyes lock on mine like he’s daring me to keep going.
So I do.
I stroke him under the hot spray, watching his mouth part, his head tip back slightly as I work him with both hands. The soap makes everything slippery, smooth, easy. I pump him slow, then fast, then slow again, teasing him just like he did me.
He groans. “Lila.”
I lick a droplet from my bottom lip. “Yeah?”
“You keep that up, I’m not going to make it out of this shower.”
“I’m not trying to get out.”
He surges forward suddenly, crowding me against the wall, his mouth at my ear, his cock hard between us, slick and hot against my belly.
“I should make you beg for it,” he murmurs. “After what you just did to me.”
I grin, arching against him. “Maybe I want to.”
His hands slide down to cup my ass, lifting me just enough for me to feel the press of him against my entrance.
But he doesn’t push in.
He just holds me there, water pounding down over both of us, his cock twitching against me, his voice ragged at my ear.
“You want it again?”
My fingers curl around his neck. “Yes.”
He grinds against me once, hard enough to make my breath catch.
“Then turn around.”
I turn around.
The tile is slick under my palms as I brace myself against the wall. The water beats down over my shoulders, hot and steady. I feel him move in behind me—one hand dragging down my back, the other gripping my hip as he lines himself up.
“Ready?” he says, low.
“God, yes.”
He slides in slow and thick, and the stretch makes me whimper.
I push back into him instinctively, my hips meeting his, and he curses under his breath. His hand slides around my waist, holding me there as he drives in again—deeper this time, smoother now that the water slicks everything between us.
The angle’s perfect.
Every thrust hits that spot inside me that makes my breath shatter. I flatten my palms against the tile, my thighs already shaking, my mouth falling open.
“Fuck—Ethan—”
“You feel that?” he growls. “How tight you are?”
I nod, barely able to speak.
His hips start to move faster, controlled and hard, his chest pressed to my back, his breath hot at my neck. The slap of skin on skin echoes in the bathroom, and I can’t think, can’t breathe, can only feel the overwhelming heat building again.
He reaches around me and grabs the shower head.
“What are you—”
“Relax,” he says.
He shifts it to pulse mode and brings it between my legs, holding it just right over my clit. The moment the water hits me, I jerk forward and nearly lose my balance.
“Oh my god—”
“Don’t move,” he says, voice firm. “Stay just like that.”
He fucks into me slow and deep, the rhythm unforgiving now, and the water pulses against my clit in time with each thrust. It’s too much. It’s perfect. I grip the tile like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
“Ethan—shit—I’m—”
“I know.”
I fall apart with a cry, clenching tight around him, my whole body convulsing. My knees nearly give out, but he holds me up, one strong arm around my waist, keeping me right where he wants me.
He doesn’t stop.
“Again,” he says, adjusting the angle of the shower head, dragging the water over me as he keeps moving inside me. “You’ve got more.”
I don’t think I do—but my body betrays me.
His cock slides in deep, and that damn water keeps teasing my clit, and before I can fully come down, the pressure builds again.
I pant, eyes squeezed shut, forehead against the wall. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.”
He shifts the water again. Flicks the pulse to a tighter setting.
“Fuck, Ethan—please—”
“Come for me, Lila. Right now.”
I scream when it hits. My legs shake. My vision whites out. I come again, harder than the last, so intense I feel it in my teeth.
He still doesn’t stop.
He lets me sag against the tile, the water now cooling just slightly, his cock still buried inside me.
Then, slowly, he pulls out.
I gasp, boneless, spent—but not done.
He turns me around.
I fall back against the wall, panting, and he drops to his knees in front of me.
“Ethan—”
“Shh,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of my thigh. “One more.”
I want to tell him I can’t. I want to beg him to wait.
But when he lifts one of my legs over his shoulder and presses the shower head between my thighs again, I cry out and grab his hair.
He licks me slowly, gently, teasing with just the tip of his tongue while the water pulses on my clit. My hips grind against him without permission. I can’t stop it. I can’t stop anything.
I feel the heat coil again, sharp and tight and impossible.
He sucks on my clit just once and I come undone all over again—loud and shameless, grinding against his face, water pouring down on both of us.
I think I sob his name. I think I lose time.
He stands back up, eyes dark, lips wet, cock still rock-hard between us.
He crowds me back against the tile, his hands firm and sure as if my body belongs exactly where he puts it.
The water keeps running, steam clinging to the air, beads sliding down his chest and dripping from his jaw.
He looks unreal like this. Solid. Intent. Still holding himself back even now.
“You okay?” he asks, voice low, eyes searching my face.
I nod. “I need you.”
That’s all it takes.
He lifts me and sets me with my back to the wall and one leg hooked around his hip. He slides into me, careful, deep enough that my breath stutters, and then he stills, forehead resting against mine like he’s grounding both of us.
“Tell me if you need me to stop,” he murmurs.
“I won’t.”
He starts moving. Controlled. Deep. Each thrust measured like he’s memorized my body and refuses to rush it. The water hits my shoulders and runs down between us, slicking everything, heat on heat, pressure building fast again even though I swear I’m empty.
I’m not.
He reaches for the shower head again and angles it just right, the spray pulsing over my clit while he keeps fucking me in that slow, devastating rhythm. I cry out and clutch his shoulders, my nails digging in as my body reacts without asking me.
“That’s it,” he says, teeth at my jaw. “You’re so responsive. Always were.”
I come hard, my body locking around him, a sharp, breath-stealing release that leaves me shaking. He keeps moving through it, holding me steady until the tremors ease and my breath comes back in ragged pulls.
“You still with me?” he asks.
“Barely,” I laugh, wrecked.
He shifts us again, turning me so I’m bent slightly forward, hands braced on the wall, his body close behind me. He slides back in, deeper from this angle, and my knees nearly buckle.
“Oh—fuck—”
He groans like it hurts him too.
One hand stays on my hip, anchoring me. The other slides under my belly, protective without saying it, reminding me he’s thinking about everything even while he loses control.
He thrusts deep. The water sprays over my back now, slicking my skin, steam rising around us like the world’s narrowed to this space and nothing else exists.
My body tightens again, another orgasm building fast and unforgiving.
“Ethan—I’m—”
“I know,” he says, breath rough. “Give it to me.”
I shatter around him, a full-body release that leaves me gasping, forehead pressed to the tile, my voice breaking on his name. I feel him tense, hear his breath go sharp, and I know he’s right on the edge now too.
He pulls out just long enough to turn me back toward him, lifts me again, and slides into me once more, this time without slowing.
His restraint finally snaps.
He fucks me hard, deep, chasing his own release now, hips snapping against mine, water slapping against our skin. I cling to him, legs wrapped tight, mouth at his shoulder as his control finally gives.
“Lila—”
“Come for me.”
He pulls out and comes on my flushed skin with a broken groan, filling me, holding me tight as his body shakes. I feel every pulse, every second of it, heat spreading low and heavy and intimate in a way that makes my chest ache.
He stays that way, breathing hard, forehead pressed to mine.
For a long moment, neither of us moves.
Then he gently eases us apart and shifts the water cooler, turning it soothing instead of punishing. He soaps his hands and washes me slowly, carefully, like it matters. Like I matter.
He rinses my hair back, cleans between my thighs with patient fingers, presses a kiss to my temple when I shiver.
“We’ll rest,” he says quietly. “We’ll eat. And then we’re done running.”
I look at him. “What do you mean?”
His eyes are steady now. Certain.
“Gavin,” he says. “And the rest of them. We take them all down at once. No half-measures. No warnings.”
My pulse kicks.
“You’re sure?”
He nods. “I’m not letting them circle you again. Ever.”
He pulls me into his chest, water still pouring over us, his hand warm and solid at my back.
“We finish this,” he says. “Together.”