Rough Hard Fierce: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set (Chicago Underground #1-3)

I found Colin in his bedroom. “You hungry?”


“A little bit,” he said. “Come here.”

He drew me to him and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. I pulled back and made a face. “I’m gross.”

He pulled me back and kissed me harder. Well, okay, if he wanted me this way, he’d have me. I wouldn’t say no. I’d learned long ago what a mistake that was.

“Shower?” he asked.

“Um,” I said. “You or me?”

His lips curved into a smile against mine. “Both.”

Oh. Of course. Not that I had ever done that before, but even I knew that’s what lovers did. I suppose it was because I’d never had a lover before, not really. Andrew had been my first, and then the date nights had been about the opposite of cleanliness. I knew Shelly would laugh at me now and call me innocent, and maybe she’d be right, but I wanted to learn. I wanted to experience everything with Colin.

“Come on, then,” I replied, donning my slutty persona. She’d know what to do.

He cocked his head as if I puzzled him.

Time to distract him. I pulled off my shirt with a small flourish. Then my jeans with a shimmy, until I stood in only my bra and panties. It worked—he came at me.

“Uh-uh.” I stopped him. “I thought we were going to shower.”

He reined himself in with a small shudder.

I turned on my heels and sauntered into the bathroom, satisfied when I heard him enter behind me. Still facing the shower, I undid the clasp of my bra at the back and let it drop before me. Then I wriggled the panties down my legs. At last I threw a glance over my shoulder, letting him see the arousal on my face.

He’d somehow beat me to naked. God, that body. I wanted to eat it up, and if this night went the way I wanted it to, I would. Lines of muscles crossed with male hair. And that cock, long and hard. The complement to my body. I’d never been a religious person and probably never would be, but if there was anything that could convert me, it would be this. That much perfection couldn’t be an accident.

I wasn’t sure what should happen next. My whorishness failed me, eclipsed by inexperience. Should I start the water? And what did we do while it turned to hot? All of a sudden I was awkward and gangly, the virgin teenager again.

Impervious to my quivery indecision, Colin reached around me and turned the shower on, testing the water until it was the right temperature. Then he stepped under the spray and put his hand out. I followed him in and shivered under the warm water. The dampened skin of our bodies kissed tentatively, while our lips above remained parted. Steam encased us, muting the outside world and hiding us from it.

Our eyes met. I breathed and felt his breath on my lips. Something passed between us, a tether that both sides grabbed hold of, never to let go. Silly thoughts. I’d turned soft and without even the excuse of alcohol. It was all me. Stupid, vulnerable, loving me.

My throat tightened.

Don’t let me fall.

And then he was kissing me, holding me—no, he wouldn’t drop me. He turned me around, so that the spray of the shower fell on my breasts. From behind he roamed the curves and dips of my body. I reached my arms up to rest in his hair, anchoring myself to him.

Both his hands cupped my breasts, his fingers massaging my nipples. They felt swollen and sensitive, like they had after Bailey had been born. The tap, tap, tap of the water on my breasts fused with his touch. Pleasure tipped over into almost pain and wrung low moans from me. His cock lay slick and warm against my ass, but it never pressed me. No, it was my hips that rocked back, desperate and wanting.

Please, they begged.

Have patience, his leisurely caresses admonished.

His fingertips traced the lines of my belly and down. Down across the crease where the gentle curves of femininity leveled into the velvety skin of sex. I was bare. I’d shaved myself every day since I’d moved in, instead of just in preparation for my date nights. I’d had more sex here with Colin than I’d had in the sum of all my date nights. Years’ worth of sexual experience overwritten in a week.

His hands on my sex were familiar now. They knew me, what rhythms pleased me, and how I liked to be touched. The knowledge was an intimacy so much greater than the fitting together of bodies.

The shower decorated my skin with droplets. Colin lapped them up with openmouthed kisses to my neck and shoulders. I felt luxurious, sensations assailing me from both sides. I felt worshipped, Colin’s hands and mouth revering my skin. I felt protected, wrapped tightly in his arms, his shower, his home. God, I felt loved. This was love. Fuck.