He leaned forward, cringed at the pain in his dick and scrubbed the grime from his legs. After lathering his face, he set the bar in the dish, then stepped sideways around her to reach the spray. Water sluiced over his cheeks, did shit to cool him down. He rubbed his eyes, then froze when small hands landed softly against his back.
She was touching him. Holy gods she was touching him and he hadn’t asked. Or ordered. Or even begged. Soap slid over his skin, ran up his spine, then across his shoulders. Her fingers were small and dainty, her touch gentle. Gooseflesh jumped out all over his skin while his pulse pumped hard and that erection he’d worked to deflate came roaring back.
“Wh—what are you doing?” he asked.
“Helping.” She set the soap down, reached for the shampoo he’d used on her. “Turn around and lean forward. I can’t reach your hair.”
His pulse turned to a roar in his ears. He knew he shouldn’t, that it was a bad idea to let her touch him any more than she already had, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from turning. At the last second some sense of decency shot through him, and he bent forward at the hips so she couldn’t see the effect she had on him. Her fingers slid into his hair. His curled into his palms so he wouldn’t react to her. But when her nails raked his scalp, tingles rushed all down his spine, sending a shiver over his skin he couldn’t contain.
“Am I hurting you?”
Gods, no. Her hands felt good. So good, he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. He managed a quick shake of his head, braced one hand against the wall so he wouldn’t fall. Tried not to lose it from so little contact. But damn, she looked like a wet dream, smelled like a fantasy. And her hands…they were pure heaven.
“Tip your head back,” she said.
His eyes slid closed at the husky timbre of her voice. He didn’t care anymore if she saw he had the mother of all hard-ons. He was lost in an erotic fantasy he didn’t want to wake up from. Of this beautiful creature touching, lathering, caressing every inch of his skin. Water ran down his face and dribbled across his back. Her delicate fingers landed on his shoulders, his chest, his abdomen. His skin tingled with the need for her touch elsewhere…everywhere. As he imagined those hands sliding down his stomach and into his boxers. Wrapping about his—
Her gasp jolted him out of his fantasy. He shook the water from his eyes, moved out from under the spray and looked down. Then nearly groaned all over again when he found her eyes wide, her mouth open in a small O, and her gaze locked solidly on his hips.
Electrical currents rushed under his skin, made his blood hotter, his cock harder. The draw to her was so strong that the urge to reach for her overwhelmed him. But something held him back. It wasn’t just that he’d promised he wouldn’t, it was the knowledge that as soon as he did he wouldn’t be able to stop, whether she begged him to or not.
Fire sizzled along his skin as water ran over his body, left him achy and hot. But he couldn’t leave yet either. Feet firmly rooted against the base of the tub, he watched her throat work as she swallowed, as she licked her kiss-me lips and continued to slide her electric gaze over his body. His balls tightened as that gaze lifted, as it hovered on his lips. And he held his breath and waited, expecting the worst, hoping it would be what he needed to cool him out. But he didn’t see fear in their dark depths when they locked with his. He saw desire. And hunger. And the same damn heat that was scorching him from the inside out.
“Maelea…” Her name left his lips before he could stop it. His hand lifted to touch her as if it had a mind of its own.
A knock sounded at the outer door. His hand froze halfway to her hip. Her head swiveled toward the sound and her eyes widened as if she’d just remembered where they were. And before Gryphon could figure out a way to draw her attention back to him, a voice called, “I’ve got your food.”
Maelea’s shocked gaze shot back to his. She took a step back, quickly crossed her arms over her body as if the sound had broken some trance. And in the steam and silence that remained, disappointment rushed through Gryphon all over again, followed by the sharp, swift slap of reality.
Skata. What the hell was he doing? He’d been about to touch her, about to kiss her as he’d stupidly done in that cave. He really was losing his ever-loving mind if he’d so easily been entranced by her in the timespan of one measly shower.
He jerked the curtain open harder than necessary, stepped out, then yanked the plastic closed behind him, leaving her alone in the running shower. No protest echoed from the tub. And the fact that she didn’t seem to care if he came or went pissed him off more than if she’d flat out rejected him.
“Finish up,” he snapped as he wrapped a towel around his hips, cursing himself and that darkness that still lingered inside him. The darkness that was controlling him, even now. “You’ve got five minutes before I haul you out myself.”
***
What in all the gods’ names was she doing?