“Off,” he says, tugging at the hem of my shirt.
His seductive lips are on my nipple before I can get the fabric free of my hair. Only his lips touch me, and I hate that his hands are idle at my hips as he clutches the countertop.
“You’ve been punishing me,” I whisper, somehow still cognizant enough to let him know he has upset me.
“I haven’t,” he vows as he releases my breast and looks into my eyes.
“You have.” The burn of tears from the other day threatens again. “Is it because Xena touched me?”
He shakes his head.
“Because it makes me a whore? Because I’m just like the other girls?”
“You’re not a whore,” he pants against my lips, reminding me of his declaration. I don’t kiss whores.
Whimpering in his mouth, I’m needy and desperate for his touch and attention. I feel like I’ve withered without his contact.
The rush of his breath as it leaves his nose is calming, as is the gentle yet dominating brush of his tongue against mine.
“I missed you,” he confesses against my lips.
“Don’t,” I breathe, squeezing my eyes tight and pulling my mouth away. “You can have my body, but quit fucking with my heart.”
“I missed these lips,” he continues, ignoring my plea. His palm cups my jaw as his lips brush mine before his mouth moves lower. “Missed these tits.”
I arch into him, surrendering to his skillful mouth.
“This pussy.” My legs spread on the countertop until they’re wide enough to accommodate the expanse of his shoulders. “Especially this pussy.”
The first swipe of his tongue along my seam nearly jolts me off the counter, but reality comes crashing in the second I see the red smear from his cut as he shifted down my body.
“Stop,” I hiss and push at his shoulders.
He looks lust-drunk when his eyes turn up to mine.
“You’re getting blood on me,” I complain.
He snaps back, looking in terror at my tits now covered in someone else’s blood.
“Fuck.” He strips, nearly falling over as he tries to take off his boots with his jeans and briefs around his calves.
A laugh erupts from my throat, and I expect him to glare at me for the slip-up, but when his eyes find mine, they’re filled with a hint of delight I’ve never seen him have before. The small grin playing on his lips is more seductive than it should be. Why does happiness make him a million times hotter?
“Get in the shower,” he commands.
And this devilish guy has a place as well. I yearn for both personalities.
I pop off the counter with more enthusiasm than I should have with blood from an unknown source on my skin.
“Jesus!” I scream when water jets out from everywhere hitting me with icy-cold spray.
“You can turn off the wall jets,” he says rounding over my back and reaching past me to hit a few buttons on a digital panel. The six wall jets halt, and I’m almost impressed enough to ask him to turn them back on.
The jut of his erection digs into my back, and stubbornly, I refuse to move. The heat of it comforts me. It lets me know he wants me in some way at least. Although possibly only sexually, I do serve some sort of purpose for him, and like a greedy cat with her very first bowl of cream, I want to lap it all up before he takes it away again.
“Did you miss me?” His arms are around me, his hands rinsing the front of my body.
I shake my head, rolling my damp hair against his chest. My response is outwardly playful, but confessing how I’ve felt the last couple of days only opens me up for further pain. I don’t need to have my feelings exploited, and Lynch seems like just the type of man to use any means necessary to maintain control of me and whatever this situation is that we’ve found ourselves in.
“Really?” His tone is playful, just how I want it to be as his hands skate lower on my body.
“Ronan—” He pinches my clit punishingly, making me squeal as I try to squirm away.
“I’ve had enough of that bullshit,” he warns in my ear.
He releases my clit, and when the blood rushes back to it, I nearly sag in his arms. It’s painful and pleasurable, and I’m screwed because my body is demanding both.
“I’m sorry.” Facing away from him somehow makes it easier to make my confessions, the ones he seems capable of drawing out of me no matter how much I need to keep them hidden. “I’m also sorry for what you walked in on the other day.”
“With Xena?” he clarifies, and I nod my head. “That was so fucking hot.”
“Really?” I try to turn to face him, but he holds me securely against his chest. His fingers are teasing now, igniting my arousal insanely fast.