He let out a low groan. Like he was remembering something carnal. “Fuck.”
Stop. Please. I don’t want to know anymore.
I squeezed my eyes tighter. I wanted to sink into the water and drown in my humiliation.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice gruff, demanding.
I opened my eyes.
“Every time I came, it was because I was thinking of you. Every time I wrapped my fist around my dick or slid my cock inside the opening of some bullshit rubber toy, I imagined it was you. I pictured your tight little cunt or that perfect, hot mouth sucking me, swallowing me, squeezing around me.”
“So, there was no pussy?”
“Oh, there was pussy.”
My heart dropped.
“But it was about as real as that dildo I sent you, just a weak substitute for the real thing. It was always you, Little Troublemaker. Only you.”
Holy. Shit.
I let out a slow, thankful breath.
What was I supposed to say to that?
If he’d spent the last four years thinking of me and only me, then why did he leave without as much as a goodbye? Unless…
“I know you made a deal with my father.” I glanced up at him, and his jaw flexed. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
He didn’t answer.
I kept going with my theory. “That’s why you left. Because of what happened with Lincoln. Because of what you did to him. It didn’t make sense to me that my dad wouldn’t go after you with guns blazing, considering…” I winced. “…You know.”He hates you.“So, you must have made a deal. You agree to leave, and he makes up some story about an accident. No harm, no foul.”
He shifted, still silent, but there was a glint of torment in his eyes.
“It’s okay.” I grabbed another handful of bubbles. “You don’t have to admit it. I know I’m right.” I had to be. Nothing else made sense.
But it was over now. He was back, and I knew the truth. No need for regret.
Caspian stood up and began unfastening his jeans. Something dark flickered in his eyes, and once again, I found myself wanting to break free from the carefully crafted upbringing of obedience and sophistication.
My body tensed and tingled, but I kept talking. I was so close to getting my answer, so close to hearing it from his lips. “And you didn’t want to tell me because Lincoln is my brother.”
He pulled his jeans over his hips. His movements were graceful, though I knew the denim was heavy and soaked with water. He slid them down around his ankles, then kicked them off. “No more talking.”
I shamelessly stared at his body, at his thick thighs and heavy cock, at the V that looked like it had been chiseled from stone. “Because I’m right?”
He grinned—at my blatant appreciation of him or at my statement, I wasn’t sure. Didn’t care. I wanted his smile any way I could get it. “You know more than you should.”
“I knew it!” I lurched up quickly, sending a surge of water splashing over the edge of the tub and onto the floor.
Caspian swallowed hard as his gaze dropped to my now exposed breasts, covered in a few wayward suds. He licked his lips, and a shudder bolted through me as I imagined him licking my nipple. I sat up straighter, resting my back against the tub and giving him a better view.
He held out a hand. “I think bath time is over.”
My eyes stayed trained on his cock as he helped me step out of the tub onto the plush bathmat. The thick head and veins that were just begging to be licked. His thighs were powerful and strong, and I remembered the way they kept me pinned to the ground outside.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror when he turned to the linen cabinet to grab a towel. There were teeth marks on my shoulder, right by my collarbone, and bruises the size of handprints on my thighs. There were scratches on my chest and stomach, small, but enough to leave a mark. I couldn’t see my back. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.