Chapter 36
KAT
The urge to run to my laptop and document every filthy detail of what just happened is unhealthy.
Also unlikely to happen considering I don’t have my laptop or even my phone.
But oh my God what the hell was that?
It was mind-blowing—that’s what it was.
My whole body feels tingly, like the aftershock of the orgasm is still pulsing through my veins. I’ve never come so hard in my life or been tied up while doing it.
Or spanked.
Or talked to like that…
My cheeks heat as each new memory fights to replace the last. I thought at thirty-four I would have hit my peak with sexual encounters, but I was wrong.
So very wrong.
There’s an enormous possibility I’ll never meet anyone like Tom again and certainly no one that can own my body the way he has.
Two orgasms.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks quietly, pressing the sweetest kiss to my shoulder after releasing it. His other hand pulls at the knot in the shirt, my arms falling free and hitting the counter with a thud that’s more dramatic than anything.
He chuckles and then grunts when I wiggle back against him. I can feel him softening inside me, feel our releases as they start running down my leg, but I don’t care.
“Kat?”
“I just need a minute.” I sigh happily, tucking my arms under my head as my eyelids flutter closed.
“Shower first,” he says, easing the rest of the way out before picking me up and carrying me toward the stairs.
“I already took a shower,” I protest but there’s no real conviction as I nuzzle my face against his neck and press a kiss to his pulse as it beats wildly in his throat.
“I’ll make it quick,” he says, setting me on the bathroom rug before flipping the shower back on. I want to make a joke about how nothing he does is quick, but the words are forgotten the second he buries his fingers in my still-damp hair and slants his mouth over mine.
There’s nothing fevered this time, his tongue leisurely sliding against mine in a way that’s as sexy as it is sensual. Tom Oakden’s skill set is completely unmatched.
“You have no problem making all those filthy demands in your books, Kitten. Tell me what you want…”
The memory of the way he growled that line has me moaning into the kiss, his lips curving up against mine, hands holding my face as he pulls back to meet my gaze.
“What are you thinking about?” I blush furiously and look anywhere but at him as he shakes with silent laughter. Pecking a quick kiss to my nose, he stands to his full height. “Tell me later,” he says, removing what’s left of my shirt as he drops it to the floor.
His gaze rakes over me, a mix of hunger, appreciation, and something like looks like awe in those deep sable-colored eyes.
“What?” I ask, trying not to cover myself as he looks his fill.
“You can’t rush a man when he’s admiring such perfection.”
I want to roll my eyes because that is a line but stop myself when his perusal lands on my face, his expression completely devoid of humor.
“Wow,” I mouth, making him shake his head as he moves back toward the door. “Where are you going?”
“To grab the bags. It’ll just take a minute.”
“And then you’ll be right back?”
“Yeah.” The way his lips curve up on one side sends a swarm of butterflies through my belly.
It’s such a contrast to his usual harshness and intensity, the lines around his eyes softening the littlest bit too.
He almost looks relaxed. “Figure your lack of clothes is what got us into this mess to begin with.”
He winks and I have to brace a hand on the vanity to keep from falling over because who is this man?
And can I keep him?
I know the last thing I should be thinking about is what’s happening between us, so I feign offense.
“I literally walked in the kitchen, and you basically mauled me.”
“You better rest up, Kitten. That was only an appetizer.”
Mouth dropping open, I watch as he slips out the door, my legs a little shaky as I go to the bathroom quickly before stepping back into the shower. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably be annoyed, but the water feels so good on my sore muscles—from the accident or sex I’m not totally sure.
The commotion at the door has me peeking at Tom through the steam-covered glass, the way he peels his shirt over his head like a seductive strip tease, his jeans and boxers hitting the floor with a soft thud.
Blood pounds in my ears as I watch him close the distance between us.
It’s ridiculous; the man has been inside me. But I never saw him undressed unless you count that first night at my house.
But this is naked.
And I’m blushing, my palms covering my heated cheeks, as he slides the glass back and climbs in before carefully sliding it shut.
“I think this is everything,” he says, either not noticing or ignoring me gaping at him as he places everything on the ledge of the tub and turns to me expectantly.
Chastising myself, I clear my throat and try to focus.
And nearly cry.
It’s stupid to be upset about shampoo, face wash, and the bar of goat milk soap that I picked up in Clementine Creek the last time I was there, but I am.
“How did you…”
“I wanted to make sure you had everything if we needed to run.” The admission is low and honest, holding none of the bravado that I’ve come to know from him.
Stepping into him, I wrap my arms around his neck and press my body completely against his, those strong hands I love so much landing on my waist.
“Thank you.”
“I’m just happy you’re okay.”
“I am,” I confirm, “but I don’t want to talk about it tonight.” My eyes drop to his lips as he holds me tighter, my fingers playing with the short hair at the back of his neck as I lean in and brush my mouth against his.
I don’t want to burst this little bubble we’re in.
Not yet.
A harsh reality is lurking outside these walls but here, right now, I’m safe, and I think for the first time in a long time, Tom Oakden might be too.