“Can I touch you, Katie?” he asked, his voice husky and low.
I nodded, wanting more of the way he made me feel before.
He started at my elbow, running his hand down toward my armpit where he skimmed lightly over the sensitive skin and continued down my side, leaving a trail of heat wherever he went. I was wearing a white top that buttoned up the front. It was an A-line style, so it was tighter up top and then sort of floated out around my waist. The skirt I wore was snug and black; it fell at a modest length (because it was for work) but still above the knee. I’d been careful about the choices I made when I picked up some new clothes. I needed pieces I could wear for work and more casually because I was only able to buy a few things.
It was a cute outfit, but right now I hated it. It felt like a block of concrete covering my skin. It was a too-thick barrier between him and me.
His hands went to the buttons, fingering them, playing with them. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m not trying to push you, or rush you.”
I swallowed thickly as he pulled at one of the buttons, gauging my reaction. I wanted to scream for him to rip it off already, but I didn’t.
When I didn’t say anything, he bent so he was looking directly into my eyes. “I just want to explore you. I want to really see you. We’ll leave our bottoms on, okay?”
“It’s no fair,” I said.
He looked at me with a quizzical look in his eyes and tilted his head to the side.
“You get to touch me, but I can’t touch you.”
His smile was slow and sly. “Good. I don’t want to share this moment. Not even with you. I’m going to be purely selfish right now, Katie. I’ve been longing to touch you like this since that first night you stayed here. This is my turn. Your turn can wait.”
He said nothing else as he slowly began to unbutton my top. Even after it was completely open, it didn’t fall away like it would have if I were dry. It clung to my body, still concealing most of my skin.
He used his index finger to slowly trace a line, starting at the waistband of my skirt and slipping upward, right in the center of my stomach and chest where my shirt was slightly parted.
I shivered at the way it felt.
When he got to the top, he used both his hands to slip beneath the edges and push it down, only it wouldn’t go very far because my arms were up. I gave a nervous giggle and lowered them, still keeping them out of the spray of the shower. He peeled off the shirt, taking extra care to watch my injuries. He moved so slow that I became impatient and made a sound in the back of my throat.
He tossed the shirt over the shower curtain as the warm spray slid over my shoulders.
Thank goodness I bought a pretty bra.
All my bras I had before were no-nonsense, plain things that served their purpose. But when I went shopping the other day, I gravitated toward the lacy, girly undergarments for reasons I didn’t understand.
But now I did.
My subconscious was secretly hoping that someone (Holt) would see them.
It was a peach tone, made almost completely of lace with a little tiny bow in the center. The straps were silky and smooth, and when I put it on, I instantly fell in love with it.
I glanced up at his face, wondering if he liked it too. I noticed his hands kind of floated over my body, not quite touching but too close to call it anything but. He was looking at me with a sort of awe in his eyes that made me feel silly for ever thinking I wouldn’t be anything but beautiful in his eyes.
A quick glance down told me what I already knew. Wet, the bra was practically see- through. He wouldn’t need to take it off because it left nothing to the imagination.
He fingered the straps, watching me, and when I made no sound of refusal, his touch became a little bit bolder. He cupped my breasts in his hands, gently massaging them, and edging his fingers just inside the top of the cups.
My breath caught at the unexpected sensations that fired through me. Without thought, my back arched, pushing myself farther into his palms. His thumbs traced a circle around my nipples, then flicked over the hardness, causing my thighs to squeeze together. His playing with my chest was causing an ache in my panties.
Next, his hands splayed my waist, holding me firmly as he dipped his head and began to kiss my chest. His mouth was hot and the water was beginning to turn cool. But I didn’t care. I would stand there under the iciest of water as long as he didn’t stop.
He suckled on my skin, something I didn’t know anyone would want to do, as he slowly made his way lower until he sucked my breast right into his hot mouth.
He used his tongue to massage the nipple, and a groan ripped from my throat.
My hands moved to his head, wanting to hold him there, but he made a sound in his throat reminding me I wasn’t supposed to touch him.
How was I expected to follow those rules when the things he was doing to me were driving me mad?
After he fully endowed attention on one breast, he moved over, bestowing the same exact treatment on the other. By this time, my legs were shaking, my skin was rippled with gooseflesh, and my panties were wet—and not from the water.
The sensations overcoming me were so powerful that I was a little embarrassed.
He lifted his head. “The water’s cold.”
I just nodded, my lips not able to form a response.
He reached around me and shut off the spray. Before pulling away, he dipped his head and kissed me. It was slow and gentle; he coaxed my tongue right out of my mouth and into his.
Then he was wrapping me in a towel and drying off my skin. He paid more attention to some parts than others, but I really didn’t care.
“I’ll be right back. I’ll get us some dry clothes.”
When he was gone, I sank down on the toilet, pressing a hand to my lips. I was falling for him. I was falling so hard and so fast that I didn’t know how to stop it. I didn’t think I could.
Was I ready for this? Would I be able to handle this along with everything else I was dealing with right now?
My head said no.
My heart whispered yes.
The bathroom door opened and he handed me in some clothes and then shut the door behind him. I hurried to strip away what was left on my body, taking a minute to drape the wet items over the curtain rod. Then I hurried to comb out my hair and grabbed up the clothes.
A pair of panties and one of his T-shirts. That’s what he brought me.
I smiled the entire time I dressed.
Thankfully, the bandages around my wrists appeared to be in good shape, barely wet, and I was glad I wasn’t going to have to bother with them tonight. I was feeling too blissful to deal with the pain.