15. Waterfalls of Desire
fifteen
Waterfalls of Desire
Emma
By the time we returned home, the heat between us had simmered back down to a slight spark. We exchanged a tender smile before I let go of Dean’s hand, rushing upstairs to reach the shower before changing my mind. If it were up to me, I would have stripped down and let him have me then and there. But I had to respect the fact that—despite the romantic afternoon we had enjoyed—he didn’t make that move.
In front of the mirror, I took off my clothes slowly, noticing how the faintest rays of sun gave the freckles over my nose and cheeks a new life. I smiled, remembering the way Dean had kissed me over and over again in the pool. Everything on his yacht was perfect—well, nearly perfect—and the whole day felt like a dream.
Stepping into the shower, I grabbed the showerhead and started running the hot water slowly over my hair, completely drenching it before moving onto my neck, shoulders and arms. As the hot water tickled my skin, I felt the need for something stronger. I adjusted the strength of the flow to the ‘massage’ setting and held the head closer to my chest, reveling in the feelings it spurred.
I must have been enjoying the feeling too much, since I forgot to lather any shower soap or even reach for the bottle. Instead, I closed my eyes, letting the splashing sounds of the water carry me out of the world.
And perhaps that was why I was slightly startled when I finally opened my eyes to see the nude silhouette of someone standing on the other side of the tempered glass.
Before I had the chance to ask, I heard Dean say, “You meant it, didn’t you?”
Mindlessly, I moved my hand over the knob, twisting it until it brought the water rush to a halt. “Meant what?”
Without either one of us moving, the words came to me. “That you’re going to miss me.”
“Of course, I meant it.” I held the showerhead close to my chest, clutching it with both hands as if I would drown without it.
“Emma, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to feel anything.”
“I… I’m sorry—”
“I don’t want an apology.”
For a moment, I remained quiet, swallowing hard as I wished I could pull him in and hold him tight. “What do you want, then?”
It wasn’t long before my wish came true. Wordlessly, Dean finally shifted from behind the glass, revealing his fit physique as he stepped into the shower with me. And before either one of us even thought of words to say, Dean yanked the shower head out of my hand, tossed it to the wet floor, and buried his head between my breasts. His arms encircled me as tightly as he knew I could have tolerated, and mine couldn’t but do the same.
“I couldn’t let you shower alone,” Dean murmured, his mouth hot and searing against my flushed skin.
I linked my fingers over his neck and threw my head back, bringing it to a rest against the cold, wet tiles. “Why not? ”
“Because I don’t want to.” Dean breathed, sending a ripple of goosebumps across my skin. “We need to finish what we started.”
A lump rose in the back of my throat, but I didn’t say anything.
Slowly, Dean drew back and looked directly at me, his deep brown eyes sending a shock right through me. He took my hand in his and lifted it up to his mouth, kissing each individual knuckle. Then he spun me around, placed my hand on either side of the wide, tempered glass and began tracing his lips down my neck.
A thin mist enveloped our bodies.
The butterflies in my stomach erupted when he rubbed his hands up and down my arms with a bar of soap. He moved slowly, gently, as if we had all the time in the world, lathering up soap as he did. His fingers moved over every inch of skin until it felt like I was going to burst from the inside out.
Still, he didn’t stop.
Instead, he spun me around, kicked my legs open and knelt down. His smooth black hair was matted to his forehead as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of my thighs. Suddenly, he stopped at my center and looked up at me.
And I had never wanted anything more.
One hand plunged into his silky, soft strands, and the other curled into a fist at my side. Dean dug his nails into my waist and kissed my pulsing core, sending shivers of desire racing up and down my spine. As soon as his tongue darted out, in slow, sweeping strokes, I squeezed my eyes shut and cried out.
“Oh, yes. Oh, Dean.”
He moaned in response, and I felt his lips widen into a smile, as his tongue continued its tantalizing assault. My hips thrust against him, and a thin sheen of sweat broke out across my forehead. Overhead, hot water continued to cascade down his back .
Abruptly, the tightness in my chest unfurled, and I was falling. Spots danced in and out of my field of vision. When I caught my breath, I pushed my blonde hair out of my eyes and glanced down at him.
He was licking his plump, soft lips, hunger written in the depth of his eyes. Then he rose to his feet and kissed me again, harder this time. I touched a finger to the dimple on his chin and sighed, my resistance melting away. Being with Dean was different—better.
I never wanted it to end.
And I wanted his hands and mouth everywhere.
The thought both surprised and terrified me.
He wrenched his lips away and began to pepper my neck with kisses, his fingers moving up and down the length of my body, stopping at my breasts. Dean tweaked one nipple then the other until they were both as hard as pebbles. Suddenly, his hand moved to my back and squeezed.
When he hoisted me up, I linked my feet over his waist, and my stomach dipped. He lifted my hands up over my head and kissed a path up from my breasts and back to my lips. Then he moved to my lobes, tugging on one then the other.
I whimpered and ground against him.
With a growl, Dean positioned himself at my entrance and waited. In one quick stroke, he was inside of me. I gasped and went still, adjusting to the feel of him inside of me. As soon as my muscles relaxed, we began to move together, taking and giving in equal pleasure. He shifted, so his feet were spread hip width apart and dug his nails into my waist.
But he was still delicate, careful, like he feared I’d break at any second.
I raked my fingers over his back and used my other hand to trace the muscles of his shoulders, down the length of his back and stopped at his behind. When I gave it a tight pinch, Dean bit back a laugh and buried his face in the crook of my neck.
He smelled like mint and lemons.
And I wanted more.
Slowly, Dean began to ease in and out of me, at a steady pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberating through the misty glass cubicle. Once my pulse began to quicken, I brought my head to a rest against his chest over the thundering of his heart. .
One hand stayed on the small of my waist, and the other kept me in place as desire built up within me.
Dean’s own heavy breathing filled my head.
All at once, his pace changed, and we began to move with wild and reckless abandon. He drew back and cradled my neck, touching his forehead to mine. My chest tightened, and my lungs burned with effort. I sunk my nails into his shoulders and tried to keep my eyes open.
Without warning, my body began to spasm and writhe, spinning wildly out of control. I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled. Then I collapsed against Dean, breathing heavily. He lifted me up off the floor and out of the shower. Carefully, he set me down on the cold marble counter, and my eyes flew open.
In the mirror behind him, I saw my own dazed expression, and the flush of my skin. As soon as Dean shifted, I saw the muscles of his back ripple before he stepped in front of me. I linked my fingers over his head and threw my head back. He crouched in front of me and began to press hot, open-mouthed kisses over every inch of skin, pausing to kiss every freckle he found .
He stood up, craned his neck down to kiss me, and I angled my head. When I bit down on his bottom lip, he moaned and pressed his tanned, muscular body against mine, covering the distance between us. Once his mouth parted, our tongues began a sensual battle for dominance that made my head spin and made me feel like I was floating on clouds.
His hand dropped between us, and he began to stroke me.
I wrenched my lips away and turned my head to the side.
Without warning, Dean threw my legs up over his shoulders and pressed his lips firmly to mine. When the need for air became too great, he drew back, and in one quick move, he was inside of me again. I inched closer to the edge of the marble counter and squeezed my legs.
Over and over, he eased in and out of me with renewed vigor. When my eyes met his, and I saw the hunger and need there, a jolt of electricity went up through me. I twisted my head to the side and moaned. He touched his lips to my heated skin and murmured against it. When his lips parted and grazed the sensitive skin there, I dug my nails into the inside of my palms.
Dean sunk his teeth into my neck, and I hissed.
Dual waves of pain and pleasure ricocheted through me, making the knots in my stomach unfurl. I ground against him, and he thrust upwards, aiming for my sweet spot. Breathlessly, I reached between us and ran my thumb over his jaw, stopping at his long, straight nose. Then I moved to his mouth, tracing his lips slowly and with wonder.
Through hooded eyes, he watched me.
With a smile, he bent down and touched his lips to mine. Then his tongue darted out, and he licked a path along my neck. Everywhere he touched, he left a trail of heat in his wake. I was trembling and panting out his name. When I bucked against him, his expression turned both feral and tender. He held me to him and thrusted, our bodies tightly pressed against each other.
By the time I came undone, Dean was unraveling too, his entire body jerking and writhing against mine. Before long, warmth pooled between my legs, and his breathing turned heavy. Sweat broke out across my forehead and down my back. He still held me to him until his breathing evened out.
Once he drew back to look at me, I reached forward and kissed him, pouring every ounce of emotion I felt into the gesture. He made a low surprised noise and deepened the kiss. Then he eased out of me and spun around. Wordlessly, he bundled me up in a bathrobe and swept me up into his arms. In the bedroom, he set me down on the edge of the bed and disappeared, returning with a towel wrapped around his waist.
My heart kept careening wildly.