34. Alex
34
ALEX
Back at the hotel, we drop off the basket and blanket with a smirking concierge. I’m keenly aware that Katherine and I look like cats that fell into the bathtub. This is the kind of establishment where that type of thing stands out.
Not to mention, her lips are plump and pink from my kisses. The other couple on the elevator take note as well. The matronly woman looks on with a curious expression, but the man smiles, and his gaze rests on Katherine a little too long for my liking.
I tug her against my side, and a floor later, they exit the elevator.
I didn’t know I had such a possessive side, but I love leaving my mark on her. You’d think I’d hate sharing her, but I don’t. The opposite, actually. I like knowing that if something were to happen to me, she’d have Gabe and Kingston. That knowledge brings me comfort.
As soon as we enter the suite, I take off my soggy shirt. Katherine’s gaze is so hot and appreciative as it rakes over my bare chest that I swear steam rises off my shoulders.
Somehow, I managed to keep my hands to myself as we crossed the lobby and on the elevator. Mostly. But it feels so damn good to be able to touch her whenever I want. To know she welcomes my touch.
I reach for her. Her skin is cold, and I run my hands up and down her arms, letting the friction warm her.
Together, we tug off her shirt, letting it plop to the floor. She stretches up on her toes, kissing me again. I groan, in heaven, with her in my arms. Utterly besotted with how freely she offers herself to me.
“Let’s get you into a warm shower.”
She makes a happy humming sound. “Yes, please.”
We move toward the bathroom, stripping each other as we go. The luxurious space is just wall dressing because she’s the star. Pressing kisses against my skin. Nimble fingers working my clothing off. An eager smile lighting up my universe. I barely notice the marble tile or the polished fixtures. They’re just colors and textures in my periphery.
Under the soft lights of the gleaming bathroom, she steps away. “I’ll be right there.”
While she heads for the water closet, I turn on the shower knobs, getting the water at just the right temperature. I tip my head back beneath the spray, wishing it could wash away my to-do list along with my worries.
Something to think about when I get home, not now.
“What are you thinking about so hard?” Katherine asks, arms wrapping around me from behind.
I didn’t even hear her open the door.
“Nothing you need to worry about.” I turn, wrapping my arms around her, pulling her into the stream, and running my hands all over.
She watches me for a few seconds, a careful regard that makes me feel like a bug beneath a magnifying glass. “I’d like to worry with you.”
I drop my chin, slayed by her unwavering solidarity. She holds me tight, cheek pressed against my chest.
“You’ve got plenty of worries of your own,” I remind her, then bite my tongue.
What the fuck, Hunt? Why are you ruining a perfect afternoon?
“Hmm... true. But that doesn’t mean I can’t carry some of yours too. You don’t have to tell me, of course. I’m here if you want to share.”
I press a kiss against her hair. How did I get so lucky? She’s offering, not pushing. Open and available, not demanding.
I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so willing to step in and help me. That’s a bit by design, of course. I’ll admit that I keep people at arm’s length. I’ve lived a long time trying not to get too close. To not feel too deeply. To not become too attached because attachment leads to heartache.
At least that’s what I told myself, and now I’m breaking all the rules.
“I’m not the kind of guy who daydreams—” The words tumble from my lips, but I don’t even know what I’m saying.
Her hands move across my bare chest like a conqueror on her way to claim new lands. Utterly distracting, and yet...
“But you make me want things I’ve never wanted before. It’s hard to remember the rules I set for myself.”
She reaches for the fancy body wash she ordered and drizzles it into her palm. “Oh?”
Then, after rubbing her hands together and working up a lather, she reaches for me, coaxing me into spilling all my thoughts. It’s like when she touches me, I can’t help myself.
“I never wanted to feel loss again after Courtney died.”
Katherine gives a soft “mmhmm” and continues her quest. Hands sliding down my abs, around my navel, over my hips, purposely avoiding the part that wants her attention the most.
When I don’t say anything else because I can’t decide what to say, she gently turns me and starts the process all over again. Shower gel. Lather. Wash.
“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been on you. On your parents.”
“My dad told me to look after her.”
Her hands still on my shoulders. “When?”
I sigh, thinking back. “I must have been eleven or twelve at the time.”
There’s a long pause as she gets back to the task at hand. Then, “You know it’s not your fault, right?”
I hear the unspoken truth she’s trying to convey without saying the words aloud. ‘You didn’t kill your sister.’
“Logically, I know that.”
“I get it. Your emotions are a different story.”
I grunt, wishing the emotions would leave me alone altogether. But if that was the case, I wouldn’t have felt the absolute delight in hearing Katherine and LaShonda laughing, see the pure joy on their faces, and feel lighter and brighter because of it.
And no matter how badly it hurt to lose Courtney, I can’t and would never wish away the solace Katherine has brought to my life.
“You’re a balm I didn’t even know I needed.”
She hugs me from behind again. “I feel the same way about you.”
“My turn,” I say, ready to get my hands on her and stop talking.
“Mmm... I’m not done yet.”
She steps back, hands on my hips, gently tugging me beneath the shower head to rinse off. The air is warm and humid and smells of something crisp and spicy with rich undernotes. She drops into a crouch, washing my legs. A laugh bursts from my lips as she reaches the backs of my knees.
The vixen smirks up at me, and my cock flares to life. She’s just too pretty, kneeling as she is in such a submissive stance. Her brow lifts as she’s confronted with the undeniable evidence of what she does to me.
“Someone’s eager for his turn,” she murmurs.
“He’s always eager for you, Beauty.”
Her hands circle my left calve, stroking up and down in a way that shouldn’t be sensual. It’s innocent, tender. But my dick wants her attention, greedy bastard.
“But this was supposed to be about warming you up,” I remind us. Maybe if I say it out loud a few times, it’ll do the trick. But I doubt it.
“Oh, I’m plenty warm.”
I groan at the purr in her voice. “Katherine.”
She moves to my right leg. Still running slick hands over my skin, completely ignoring the erection bobbing in her face. “Yes?”
“We’re not doing it.”
“It?”
“Anything. We don’t have to fuck every time we’re together,” I say, trying to be respectful even as I grind out the crass words.
Her laugh is husky as she meets my gaze.
“First of all, my frenemy’s in town. But it’s not like I’m in a coma, handsome.”
Frackin' hell.
This time, she drizzles the shower gel all over my cock, the pearlescent liquid looking so much like cum. I grit my teeth and brace a hand against the wall, but that doesn’t prepare me for her touch.
The way she circles my cock with those slender fingers, shuttling down and up again. Over and over as I groan.
“Second, my hands still work.”
“Fuck. Me.”
Her laugh turns dark and wicked. I’ve never heard anything like it, and it seems almost unfair that I’m the only one here enjoying it. But I’m bastard enough to enjoy having all her attention on me. And only me.
With her other hand, she massages my nuts. My eyes roll back in my head, and my knees give.
“Almost clean,” she says.
“You keep that up, and I’m going to get dirty again.” At the very least, sticky.
“Good thing we’re in the shower,” she murmurs, thumb finding the sensitive spot just beneath the head.
My hips punch forward, and she laughs again. The sweet sound bounces off the walls, and it takes some mental gymnastics to keep calm when everything in me wants to scoop her up and press her against the wall.
Pulling her up into a hug is maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I’m serious about being with her, not giving in to my urges just because she turns me on.
“My turn,” I say again, reaching for the shower gel. This time, she doesn’t argue and simply enjoys a bit of pampering. “And this is about more than sex to me.”
She inhales, the soft sound echoing off the polished walls.
“You’re incredible,” I murmur as I kneel before her, washing every inch.
She rests her hands on my shoulders for balance. “I’m just me.”
I press a kiss against her lower belly. “Well, just you, you’re very special.”
She cups my chin and tips my face up, disbelief making her lips part. But when she sees how sincere I am, how crazy I am about her, disbelief turns to pleasure.
Done with her legs, I stand and pull her beneath the spray for a rinse. It’s hard to focus on the task at hand when her curves are so silky smooth beneath my fingertips. But I manage because I’m serious about our relationship. Our connection isn’t solely physical.
“Can I wash your hair?”
“Please, and thank you.”
???
We snuggle in bed, her wrapped in her robe, me with a towel around my hips, my half-hard cock nudging the terrycloth. I wasn’t much of a cuddler before I met her, but I can tell how much she loves physical contact. Craves it. Embraces every touch, every opportunity to sink into each other.
“I could get used to this,” she murmurs, index finger absently drawing patterns on my chest.
“This?”
“Lazy Sunday afternoons.”
“What do you normally do on a Sunday afternoon?”
I don’t even need to see her face to know she’s curling her lip. “Tea, polo, regattas... whatever my mother put on my schedule as important. A lot of events to make connections. But never this.”
“I’m glad about that last part.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmhmm. If you’d been doing this with some other lucky guy, Gabe, King, and I would have never stood a chance.”
“I’ve never done this with anyone but you.”
“I’m a lucky bastard.”
“Hmm... you’re not a bastard.”
“I’m a lucky man.”
“Just wait until my frenemy leaves. Then you’ll be really lucky.”
I groan, and my cock stirs. “Don’t tease me.”
“So sorry.”
I give her a squeeze. “I don’t think you are. I think you like having me wrapped around your finger.”
“I don’t hate it.”
I huff a laugh and close my eyes, contentment filling every corner of my soul. She’s right. This is bliss. We should make Lazy Sundays a standing date. I might even let the others join in.
Her phone chimes from the nightstand, ruining the relaxed moment. But I recognize Kingston’s text tone, and while I don’t relish the idea of letting her go, I know that the two of them are still sorting out this new facet of their relationship. I loosen my grip on her.
“See what he has to say,” I murmur, not moving.
She leans away and is back in a flash, nestling close as she reads her phone. “Well, that’s ominous.”
“What is?”
She flashes the screen my way.
Kingston: can we talk?