My head tips back and my eyes flutter shut. “Fuck,” I murmur as he grips me. The pressure of his fingertips, the scrape of the blade, the knowledge that his face is right there.
When he finishes tidying one side, he methodically moves on to the next. Large, deft fingers spread and manhandle me as he fixes up the spots I failed to reach. I can feel myself leaking, but I ignore it. There’s no way he can tell.
I feel like I could come just from his proximity. But I don’t. I focus on breathing, on not shaking. I focus on willing one of his fingers to slip inside me—for him to cross that line.
For him to be even more impulsive than he’s already been by crawling into this bath with me.
“There,” he announces roughly, voice echoing in the steamy bathroom as he massages the top portion of hair that remains. His jaw is set tight, brow lightly furrowed. “Have you decided what I’m doing up here?”
“Oh, you’re doing that part, are you?”
He doesn’t even pretend to make eye contact with me when he responds, “When I start a job, I finish it.”
“Okay.”
“What shape?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even think I care.” All I care about is coming. Based on the way Beau’s eyes are eating me up right now, I don’t think it matters at all.
“Triangle,” he bites out. “If you hate it, you can easily change it to a strip.”
“Or you can.” My voice sounds thick, deep—not my own. I feel like someone else right now. Someone beautiful and powerful, someone sure of herself and what she wants.
And what I want is him.
He swallows and nods, then moves in closer. My hand grips the tiled edge, the sharp corner digging into my palm. The huge diamond on my ring finger sparkles under the light from above.
“Or I can,” he repeats as he glides the razor over the top horizontal line.
“Next time,” I add, making his eyes finally snap up to mine.
“Next time,” he repeats, and it feels like an agreement. It feels like a moment where we both realize this pull between us is stronger than either of us can resist.
Or maybe in this moment, we both realize that neither of us cares to struggle. We’ve both struggled enough already.
His gaze drops along with his head, and he gets to work.
Beau is meticulous, hand moving between us, pressing each leg open wider, and then resting on my lower stomach. His face is close, so close. He looks like an artist painting at an easel or something. It almost makes me laugh, because what else is a girl supposed to do in this situation? Tossed so far out of her realm of experience by the gruff military man.
I almost don’t recognize myself.
After he shaves my pubic hair into a symmetrical triangle with military precision, he scoops up water, washing away all traces of soap and hair.
The pads of his fingers trail delicately over my slit, and I shiver. A moan tears from my lips, loud enough to hear over the swish and trickle of water. My head tips back and I try to hide my embarrassment behind closed eyelids.
I swear he growls. My legs try to clamp shut in response, but he catches them first.
“If I leave this bathroom right now, what are you going to do?”
Heat lashes at my cheeks, spilling down over my chest. My breasts are full, my nipples peaked almost painfully.
“Tell me, Bailey. I wanna hear it. I can see you. You’re making a mess on the edge of my tub. If I get up and walk out right now, what am I gonna hear you doing from the other side of that door?”
My mind races. A little part of me wants to clam up on him right now. Tap out. This water feels too deep for someone who hasn’t spent much time swimming.
But I’m a survivor. And I want this.
“Probably play with myself until I come with your name on my lips,” I admit in a hushed tone.
His hands move up to my inner thighs, one on each side, then his thumbs press up over my outer lips.
He’s teasing me.
I arch my spine, teasing right back.
“Seems unfair that you get to play with this pretty pussy when I’m the one who’s been down on his knees doing all the hard work.”
One thumb goes higher, brushing over my clit.
I cry out.
“Don’t you think that seems unfair, Bailey?”
Another swipe.
“Yes!” My voice is a desperate whine.
“Ask me to play with your pussy. Let me hear it.”
I lick my lips, glaring down at him through lust-filled eyes. And then I raise him one. “Please play with my pussy.”
“Fuck, Bailey,” is all he gets out before he buries his head between my legs and his tongue spears into me.
One of my hands flies back to prop up my needy body, while the other shoots to his hair. I brace for what has to be the most overwhelming wave of pleasure I’ve ever been hit with. Maybe it’s the past five minutes of anticipation, maybe it’s that no one has ever used their mouth on me.
Maybe it’s him.
Whatever it is, it makes my vision go black and my brain shut down. It makes my legs spread impossibly wider, and my hips grind forward against him.
“You’re fucking delicious,” he rasps, then slings my legs over his shoulders.
My whimpers turn to moans when his tongue moves up, teeth grazing my clit before he sucks on it. And my moans turn to cries when he adds one finger—and then two—stretching me so carefully. He soothes the bite of his intrusion with the overwhelming pleasure of his tongue.
“Beau. Beau. Beau.” I chant his name as he pushes me higher.
He shoves his fingers into me hard, shaking my body with the force of it while sucking me all at once, and I scream his name. A rush of heat flows from me, disintegrating my bones in the process.
My orgasm rocks my very foundation. Beau stays between my legs as I come back down, softly licking and sucking and telling me how pretty I am, and that makes my addiction to him even more obsessive.
Cool air rushes in when he pulls his head back, and I open my eyes just in time to see him lick his lips. He looks pleased with himself. He’s got that devilish smirk on his glistening face, and that cocky glint in his eye.
“New rule, Bailey.” He points at my left hand, slung over the edge of the tub, and then between my legs. “So long as you’re wearing that ring, this pussy is mine.”
My heart thunders at how base he sounds, staking a claim to my body.
“Next time you find yourself thinking you’re going to pull that box of toys out and play with it all by yourself, you’re going to offer it to me first.”
I straighten slightly, trying to appear less boneless than I feel as I nod back at him. I’m buzzing with excitement as my tongue darts out over my lips. “Okay.”
He pushes to stand above me, and my eyes bug at what’s pointing straight at me from between his legs. He regards me carefully, completely ignoring his raging erection, something I find challenging to do.
I itch to touch it. I wonder how it would feel in my mouth. I want him to tell me in painstaking detail how he wants me to suck it.
“You’re fucking perfect. You know that?” Then he leans down, kisses me tenderly, and brushes a thumb over my bottom lip, making me taste the lingering remains of my orgasm.
My eyes catch on his, and the sincerity there stuns me silent.
So silent that I watch him step out of the tub, replace his towel around his waist, and leave me there without another word.
27
Beau
I don’t wake up screaming for once.
But I wake up with phantom burning pains. My first thought is that this is an improvement. My second thought is that it’s 2:11 a.m. and Bailey didn’t come to my room.
I should be happy I seem to be improving, even if my healed feet feel like they’re sizzling against a hot grill beneath the covers.
But all I can think about is Bailey. The girl I’m supposed to be helping, not playing games with.
I saw her today. The way she looks at me. How easily she told me she trusts me.
She shouldn’t.