Chapter 34 #2
“Fucking. Perfect,” Drew grunts out, punctuating each word with a rough thrust before he stills, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he pulses inside me, filling me with his release.
It feels like forever before my orgasm subsides. Before we come back to earth together, my body melting back against Drew’s as he wraps an arm around my shoulders, holding me tightly to him as his chest heaves against my back and the gallop of his heart matches my own.
“Catie,” he murmurs, my name a reverent whisper. He drops his lips to my shoulder, pressing soft kisses to my overheated skin. “That was…you are…” I feel him shake his head, letting out a long, shaky exhale like words are beyond him.
“I know,” I say, turning my head to kiss his jaw, my hands coming up to grip his forearms. “Me too.”
“That was okay right?” He leans his head against mine, his arms tightening around my shoulders like he wants to pull me closer even though there’s no space between us at all. “It wasn’t too rough? I didn’t hurt you?”
I close my eyes, soaking in the feel of him behind me, my body pressed to his in the steamy shower and my brain a riot of feelings and emotions that all look like him. “You didn’t. You couldn’t. It was perfect.”
And it was. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could ever have something like this.
And not just the sex, although I never thought my body was capable of that either.
But the man. The one who sees me and knows me and wants me anyway.
The one who makes me feel safe and understood and like who I am is exactly enough.
Who fucks me in a shower and makes me feel like the most powerful, beautiful, desirable woman in the entire world when I’ve spent most of my life feeling the opposite of that.
“Let’s get clean,” Drew whispers, pressing a kiss to my cheek and lifting me off him, setting me gently on the shower bench.
“Stay right there,” he says, leaning down to kiss me one more time before standing up and grabbing the shampoo.
He squeezes some out and works it through my hair, washing it out before switching to conditioner.
And when he’s done with that, he pours body wash into his hand and smooths it over my skin, between my legs, everywhere but my stomach, and the care he takes with me has unexpected tears pricking my eyes, emotion winding through me until I’m practically a puddle at his feet.
When he finishes with himself, he shuts off the water and dries me off, wrapping me in a towel and slinging one around his waist before guiding me out of the shower.
I grab my brush from the counter, tugging it through my hair as I turn to face Drew, my gaze raking over him.
His hair is sexily mussed from rubbing the towel over it.
His eyes still swirl with a touch of heat, and water droplets roll down his muscled chest and torso before disappearing into the towel wrapped low on his hips.
Mine.
All fucking mine.
What even is this life?
“You keep looking at me like that and I’m going to tear that sorry excuse for a towel off your body and toss you straight onto my bed,” Drew practically growls, stalking towards me and backing me against the vanity, his lips hovering over mine, his whiskey eyes flashing with intensity.
I smirk at him, sliding a hand around to squeeze his ass and chuckling when he jolts. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that at all.”
He groans, leaning his forehead against mine. “Later,” he mumbles, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips. “That was a lot, and you need water and a snack and one of my T-shirts with absolutely nothing on underneath so I have easy access when I take it off you.”
I grin at him, propping a hand on my hip. “Just make sure it doesn’t have your name on the back.”
“Brat,” Drew says with a grin, kissing my nose before taking the brush out of my hand and spinning me to face the mirror.
He drags the brush through my hair slowly, working the knots out one by one.
He watches what he’s doing, face a mask of concentration, and I watch him.
Us. The way we look together. How well we fit.
I like the thought of it, I decide. Fitting with someone else.
With him.
Setting the brush aside, Drew gathers my hair up and divides it into three sections, winding the damp strands into a braid the way he does so often, and like always, this little thing I’ve done for myself a million times in my life takes on a whole new meaning when he’s the one doing it.
As he works and I watch, my mind spins, playing the tape all the way to the end, seeing us here tomorrow and the next day and years down the road, letting him take care of me and taking care of him in return.
A small thing for some people, but not for me. And, I know, not for him either.
I want it, I think.
Me and him. This life. Just…this.
More of this.
“What are you thinking about?” Drew asks, turning me back to face him, cupping my face in his hands and stroking my cheeks as his eyes search mine.