Chapter Nineteen #2
He was barely touching me, but it felt like every nerve ending was sparking at the touch, at his nearness.
He removed the brace, tossing it onto the dresser, then ran his thumb over the creases left behind on my skin.
My lungs felt pinched; my pulse skittered.
“Gotta stop looking at me like that,” Rune murmured.
“Like what?”
“You know what,” he said, lips twitching just enough for one of those dimples to show itself. “Need some help with the shirt?” he asked.
Nope.
“Yes.”
The smile stretched a little wider, like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
“I can do that. Arms up as high as you can get ‘em.”
One arm was not a problem. The other had my ribs screaming enough that I could only get my hand up to shoulder height. But Rune made it work. And then I was standing there topless—throbbing, thrumming, aching.
A muscle twitched in Rune’s jaw and that towel he was still wearing did very little to hide his own growing attraction.
“Shorts too?” he asked, voice rough.
“I don’t want to accidentally use my bad hand,” I said, knowing I sounded breathy and not caring.
Rune sucked in a deep breath, his chest expanding wide, then released it as his fingers grazed down my hips, pulling my shorts and panties down my thighs.
Once I stepped out of them, I was completely bare. And Rune wasn’t much more covered, with his hard-on testing the limits of the towel around his waist.
His gaze was helpless but to slip from mine, to trace the curves of my chest, hips, thighs, then back up again just as slowly. When his eyes met mine again, they were heavy-lidded, their depths molten.
“I, um,” I started, having to wet my lips to keep going. “I might need some more help.”
Rune’s eyes blazed. “With what?”
“Washing my hair. I’m one-handed and can’t raise the other one that high.”
The sound that moved through him was damn near a growl. “I can help with that,” he agreed, reaching down for my hand and pulling me through to the bathroom.
He flicked on the water and helped me into the shower. Then he waited until I turned to face him before ripping his towel away and tossing it to the side.
A pained sound worked its way through me as I stood there pressing my thighs together to ease the ache between.
Rune’s smile was devilish. “Problem?” he asked.
All I could manage was a shake of my head.
He stepped forward and moved into the shower, pulling the curtain closed. The air suddenly felt thick and unbreathable.
Rune pressed me under the water. “Lean back,” he instructed.
It took an embarrassingly long time to remember why he would want me to do that. But then I wet my hair and watched him as he poured shampoo into his hands, sudsed it up, and then reached to start scrubbing it into my scalp.
The night before, when he’d been scrubbing my scalp, it had been calming. This was not that. The touch was a spark, my body the kindling.
By the time he told me to rinse, my skin felt too hot, too tight. Even the hot water felt cold by comparison, making a shiver move through me as it slid down my body.
“What are you doing?” I asked when I felt his hands sliding over the top of my chest and shoulders, soft suds forming on my skin.
“Hard to wash with just one hand and some bruised ribs,” he said as his hands moved down my arms. His gaze flicked to mine as his hands moved back up, then over my breasts. “Or do you want me to stop?”
I was pretty sure I’d combust if he did.
“It’s okay,” I said, voice airless, then catching on a gasp when his thumbs brushed over my nipples.
His maddening restraint was an exquisite sort of torture, making both pleasure and frustration combine until I was trembling, until my breath was coming in fast, frantic huffs. All the while, Rune’s hands stayed focused on their task.
I thought the unbearable drag of anticipation might go on forever. But then he turned me, pulling me back against his chest, and his hand slid between my thighs.
If he hadn’t been holding onto me, I might have fallen, I jerked so hard.
A long, deep moan escaped me as my head fell back on his shoulder and my hips rocked restlessly against his palm.
“Rune, please,” I begged, the need inside becoming a sharp, painful ache.
“Please, what?” he asked. “Do this?” His thumb teased across my clit, making my legs shake and my breath catch. “Or this?” Two fingers glided inside me, dragging a low groan out of me.
“Yes,” I whimpered.
“Or this?” he asked, thumb moving across my clit as his fingers started to thrust.
I was so far gone.
It didn’t take much for me to be trembling, desperate, undone.
Rune groaned in my ear as my walls clenched around his fingers as the orgasm moved through me again and again.
I reached back, closing my hand around his hard length and stroking.
His forehead met my shoulder as another needy sound escaped him.
It wasn’t long before his fingers were moving again, thrusting to the same rhythm that I stroked him.
It was all heat and need and pleasure, our sounds filling the shower, our bodies tense and trembling, then releasing as we both came—breathless, boneless.
I was still trying to catch my breath as Rune moved us under the spray of the water again as he turned me to face him.
His forehead pressed to mine for a moment before he dipped, his lips pressing softly to mine.
My arm went around him, pulling him close as the kiss tipped, went needier, hungrier.
But just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.
Then we were climbing out, drying off, and making our way into the bedroom.
I had a few changes of clothes, but he helped me into my panties and one of his tees instead.
He pulled on pants; then we fell into bed, him pulling me onto his chest, and both of us drifting off to sleep within a few minutes.
I wanted a hundred more nights exactly like it.
Even if I knew the clock was likely already ticking down.
And, eventually, I’d be back in my own bed. Alone.