Levi
Thirty-Two
Ihave to bite my own tongue to keep from groaning out loud. I don’t move, but my eyes greedily drink in the expanse of soft skin, tanned golden by the summer sun, and my fingers twitch with the restraint it’s taking not to reach out and pull her back towards me.
Her damp hair is so long that it nearly brushes the small of her back, the locks hanging in messy waves that make her look like she’s been freshly fucked. God, how I wish that were the case.
She lifts her leg over the edge of the tub, and fuck me, there is no reality out there in which I don’t stare directly at that pert little ass.
It’s gone all too soon, engulfed by the sudsy water as she leans against the backrest. Dammit.
Why did I think adding the bubble bath was a good idea?
The suds surround her, and the water climbs up her throat until only her head is exposed.
I added so much soap to the bath that the water is nearly impossible to see through.
My imagination runs wild with thoughts of what’s under that water, and I’m about two seconds away from diving in after her just for the chance to find out.
Oakley lets out a groan of contentment and settles further into the water. My cock stiffens in my sweats at the sultry noise. I want to hear it again. And again. And again.
She has her head tilted back to rest along the lip of the tub, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted as she soaks, and I can’t help but watch in rapt adoration.
She’s so beautiful it hurts.
I don’t know how I’ve gone my entire life without knowing her, because now that I’ve met her, I can’t imagine any life worth living that doesn’t have her in it.
My broken upbringing doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that I spent years listening to the man I was supposed to look up to beat on the people closest to him. It doesn’t matter that those nightmares still linger in my psyche or that they sometimes rear their ugly heads.
All that matters is her.
My world is tilted on its axis, and I’m drawn by an invisible magnetic force right into her orbit. I’m not sold on the idea of karma, but if this is my reward for suffering through years of abuse and neglect, then I’d endure it all again just for the chance of being here with her.
I’m frozen in time, right here in the middle of my own bathroom, wanting to stay where I am and drink in all her beauty, yet at the same time, ready to drop to my knees in surrender.
I am captivated.
Utterly and devastatingly captivated.
And I can’t find it in me to fight it anymore.
She beckons me forward with a lazy wave, her eyes still closed, and I watch in real time as the weight of the day drains from her.
Her shoulders relax, dropping down from where she held them taut against her ears.
Her chest rises and falls with even breaths, each inhale tempting me with a peek of the swell of her breasts.
I drop to my knees beside the tub, content to sit and watch as she unwinds from the day. Her eyes flutter open, and she rolls her head to the side, studying me with those eyes that look more gray than blue, darkened by something heavier than the dim light of the bathroom.
“I’m on my knees here, darlin’. Have you figured it out yet?”
She hums in contented agreement. It’s like she knows how attuned I am to her already, and a small kernel of pride swells within me.
She has to know how gone I am for her. My hands twitch at my sides, yearning to reach out and touch her, but I don’t. Not yet.
She suddenly sits up, suds sloshing over the side of the tub and dripping onto the heated tile floor. The swell of her breasts sits just above the surface of the water, and it takes all of my restraint and then some to keep my eyes on her face.
A smirk tugs at her lips, and that playful look alone pulls the invisible string connecting us taut.
She tilts her head back, her eyes closing as she wets her hair.
Her back arches as she exposes her breasts completely to me.
My cock is painfully hard, and I quickly adjust myself before she can catch me.
If I wasn’t already on my knees, the sight of her like this would have brought me to the ground in a heartbeat.
When her hair is soaked through, she sits back up and looks at me, a question in her eyes. I can’t tell what she’s thinking, and I’d give anything to crawl inside her mind right now.
“Shampoo?” I ask, needing to busy my hands with something else before I reach out and take what I know we both want. Grabbing the bottle from the corner of the shower, I squirt a generous amount in my hands before kneeling behind her. “May I?”
There’s a tentative pause before a shy nod.
Placing my hands on the back of her head, I pause again, hoping and praying she doesn’t change her mind and push me away.
She tenses for a brief moment before relaxing, and I start to massage her scalp with deft fingers, lathering the shampoo and leaving nothing untouched.
A small moan escapes her at the feel of my hands, and I marvel at the silky texture of her hair.
The way it slips and slides through my fingertips makes me want to wrap it around my fist and tug.
When I finish, she slides forward and tilts her head back again.
I rinse the suds out, focused on the task at hand, and try like hell to keep my eyes from wandering to her exposed breasts.
The feel of her hair is hypnotizing, and I find myself running my fingers through it like a pianist caressing the keys of his instrument, long after the shampoo is rinsed out.
It’s only when I notice her watching me that my hands freeze, still tangled in her hair. We watch each other, quietly observing the pieces of each other we haven’t allowed ourselves the time to notice until now.
I allow my eyes to travel down her face to her chest, finally taking in the full sight of her, nipples peaked against the chill air. I tamp down the urge to lean forward and capture one of them in my mouth and caress it with my tongue.
She’s watching me with a rapt fascination, her breaths coming out faster now, her legs sliding together and stirring the water around her.
She’s turned on. She wants this as badly as I do, and I can’t take the anticipation anymore.
I bring my hand around to the front of her throat and hold it there, not squeezing, just enjoying the feel of her smooth skin and the possessive nature of my touch. She swallows, her lips parting slightly, her eyes darkening to a storm-cloud gray.
I need to stop this now before things go too far and I scare her back into that shell she only recently emerged from.
We’re both too raw right now, too amped up from the events of tonight and from the bated tension that’s been rippling between us all these weeks.
With her eyes still on me, I lean in and press my lips gently to her forehead, loving the smoothness of her skin beneath them and wondering if the rest of her skin feels just as smooth. I bet it does. It takes everything in me to pull away, stand, and back away to the door of the bathroom.
Her eyes follow me, a silent question sitting in the slight arch of one brow, those piercing irises staring straight into my soul. Is that a look of disappointment in her features?
Does she know how much that small act of leaving her side is killing me? I’m sure it’s written all over my face, but hopefully she can see past my desire long enough to notice the restraint I’m using and the reason behind it.
I don’t want to rush her into anything she might not be ready for. This isn’t a conversation we’ve had yet, and I don’t want to push her too far too fast and potentially ruin this thing between us before it even starts.
When she first came to town, she was a shriveled-up mess of a girl, tiptoeing around everyone like she owed us her servitude.
That stops tonight. She deserves to be here.
She deserves to be with a man who allows her the space to be her authentic self without judgment or fear of repercussion.
I don’t care if I have to shout it from the top of the highest mountain until she finally accepts it.
I’ll scream until my voice turns raw and hoarse, and then I’ll scream it some more.
She deserves way more than a fleeting moment of mutual satisfaction fueled by the intensity of the emotions running between us tonight. She deserves to feel safe, to have her body worshiped in slow, languid touches and frenzied kisses.
But tonight is not that night. It feels like I’ve been waiting my whole life for someone like her to walk in. I can wait a little longer.
“There’s a towel in the warmer.” I motion to the small towel warmer in the corner of the bathroom.
“I’ll give you some privacy.” I know that if I don’t leave now, there is no chance in hell I’ll make it out of here without touching her.
Without another word, I spin on my heel and head into my bedroom.
The gentle sloshing of water sounds from the bathroom, and I bite back a groan at the mental image of Oakley emerging from the suds, glistening and dripping. Padding back to the doorway, I keep my gaze on the floor as I rap my knuckles against the doorframe.
“Come in.”
Her angelic voice rolls over my skin, and I will my cock to stand down as it jumps in response. I stand awkwardly in front of her, rubbing a palm across the back of my neck and trying not to stare at the sight of her wrapped in one of my huge towels.
“How’s your hip?” I manage.
She sighs and drops the towel, clearly not bothered by the fact that I’m standing in front of her. I quickly turn, moving to the vanity, and riffle through the drawers until I find what I’m looking for while she dresses.
“Sore, but no sharp pain or anything like that. I think it’s just bruised.”
“I’ll grab you some ibuprofen in a minute. It should help take the edge off.”
I finally locate what I’m looking for, and once she’s dressed, I motion for her to come stand before me, facing the mirror. She moves with lithe grace, her wet feet making little padding sounds across the warm tile.
I take in the sight of her in the mirror, studying the rosy color in her cheeks and her bright, but tired eyes.
She looks how I feel. Exhausted from the weight of the world, but there’s a new sense of relaxation that surrounds us.
Like she’s comfortable here in this intimate space with me.
Like we’re any ordinary couple going through the contented motions of routine.
I could get used to this feeling.
She watches me in the mirror, a glint of amused confusion shining in her eyes. She looks so small compared to me, my clothes hanging slack and shapeless off of her frame. I clear my throat and lift the hairbrush over her shoulder to show her in the mirror.
“May I?”