Chapter 21 #2
He releases my wrist, and I untie the bag from his belt.
Once it’s off, I tie it closed again and then walk it to the other side of the bathroom and drop it in a corner.
It’s a relief to leave it behind when I return to him.
Seb’s eyes are dark and haunted, his hair flopping around his face as he looks down at me, but the sight of him shirtless sends my heart fluttering, nonetheless.
He’s incredibly attractive, even covered in blood.
I try to ignore the heat blooming deep inside me as I kneel in front of him, sitting back on my heels to unlace his boots.
It takes me a few tries, but I pry them off one at a time and cast them aside. I strip off his socks.
It’s satisfying to see clean skin under his bloody clothes. He’s really not hurt, just filthy and tired and…traumatized, I think. I rise up on my knees and reach for the button to his pants. My eyes meet his. “Is this okay?” I ask.
He nods. I unbutton and unzip, then grab the waistband and peel the blood-soaked material off him.
He steps out of his pants, and I learn that Sebastian York does not wear underwear.
I’m temporarily frozen by the overwhelming sight of his manhood.
Seb is big. He’s not even erect, and the length and girth of him are, well…
I guess as a Taurus, hung like a bull is an apt descriptor.
I try not to make a big deal of it, but despite my best efforts, a high-pitched squeak comes from the back of my throat.
I stand and busy myself adjusting the water to the perfect temperature.
When I get it just right, I move out of the way, and he steps into the spray.
For a minute, he just stands there, the water hitting his hair and shoulders, his hands braced on the wall.
Red rivulets of blood course down his body.
I could leave now. Unlike me, he’s conscious and clearly capable of washing himself, but I find I can’t move.
I stand there in my pink kitten pajamas, staring at this god of a man and thinking, he’s mine and it’s my job to care for him.
It’s a stupid thought. Sebastian York isn’t mine.
We’re not even officially dating, let alone exclusive.
We’ve known each other a matter of days.
But I can’t bring myself to leave. Instead, I tie my hair up with the elastic I keep around my wrist. Then I pull off my top and slide down my pajama shorts.
Seb’s eyes latch on to me, scanning my naked body in a slow, languid way. He stops breathing and goes perfectly still, like he’s afraid to scare me away.
I step into the spray and close the door behind me.
His back is still to me, his hands braced against the wall, but his breath is coming quicker now.
Grabbing the shower puff he has hanging on a hook, I squeeze in some body wash and start at his shoulders.
He releases a deep moan of pleasure as I massage the soap over his back, his spine, his ass.
I scrub the blood off each of his arms from behind.
When he doesn’t turn around, I pour some of his shampoo into my palm and rise up on my tiptoes to massage it into his hair.
He lowers himself and tips his head back, his eyes squeezing shut as I use my nails on his scalp.
The most delicious sound comes from his chest, a vibration, a purr, a melody like the sexiest harp chord being struck.
I trail my palms along his back, enjoying the rumble of it through his rib cage. He uses the opportunity to rinse his hair, the last remnants of the blood circling the drain. But even when he pulls his head out of the water, his eyes are squeezed shut.
“You told me today that your dragon wants me,” I say, reaching under his arm to run the puff over his chest. “Is that why you won’t look at me?”
“Do you welcome me looking at you?” His voice is gravel and rust, so rough I can barely make out the words.
“Only if you want to.”
“I want to,” he growls. He pivots in my arms, and I see right away what he is hiding behind his closed eyes.
His irises are swirling, molten gold. Dragon’s eyes.
And his skin is flushed and heated. Hotter than the water.
Steam rises between us, and I hazard a glance down.
The overwhelm I’d felt before at the size of him pales in comparison to seeing him erect.
His proud length juts between us, and something deep within me clenches.
It’s like my body is whispering, “I know just what to do with that!” Even as my brain screams, “That’s going to wreck you. ”
I tell my brain to shut the fuck up and run my soapy hands down his abdomen, all the way to the base of his cock. I circle him with my hand—well…as much as possible. My fingers don’t reach my thumb.
He inhales with a hiss. He still hasn’t touched me, and his eyes are closed again.
“Zoe—” His voice is trashed. “If I touch you, if I kiss you, I don’t think I can stop.
If you don’t want this, go now. If you stay, my dragon will claim you.
It’s taking everything in my power to hold him back right now. ”
I see the strain in his neck, in the muscles of his arms, in the way his abdomen flexes behind my knuckles. I grip him tighter, my lids dropping low as I look up at him through my lashes and slide my hand up his shaft, running my thumb over the head. “I’m not going anywhere, Seb. Claim me.”
The words are barely out of my mouth, and I’m in the air.
My legs instinctively wrap around his hips as his mouth crashes down on mine.
Our tongues tangle as our mouths meld, my back thumping against the shower wall.
It feels soft, and I realize his arm is behind me, protecting me from the hard tile, my head cupped in his palm.
His other hand is on my breast. And his hips…
god, his hips are circling against me, that massive erection sandwiched between us.
Our bodies are both wet as hell, and I grip his neck tighter to keep from sliding down him. He drops his hand to my thigh, catching me, holding me there. Carefully, I lower one leg to the shower floor.
I’m a tall woman, but Seb’s taller. He has to bend his neck to touch his forehead to mine, but on my tiptoe, with one leg hooked over his hip, I manage to reach his lips and lose myself in another kiss.
His knuckles trace down my sternum and over my stomach to my navel.
My pulse thrums. And when his fingers find my center, I have to stop kissing him to catch my breath.
He circles my clit with a feathery touch that sends lightning through my veins, and then he dips a finger inside me.
I tip my head back on a gasp, and I’m thankful for the cool tile, because my blood is on fire.
Everything in me is burning for him, my skin, my individual hairs, my very cells call out for his touch.
I grab his cock and pull myself up on his neck to position him at my opening.
He lifts me until the head of him is tucked inside my folds.
I lick my lips, ready, so ready. Our gazes lock. “You’re mine, Zoe Willow,” he growls.
“Yours,” I echo softly, urging him closer. He slides into me, stealing my breath.