My head settles against his chest and his heartbeat lulls me into a calmer, much more peaceful state. “Yeah. It was crazy.” I shake my head against his warm skin. “It was like I knew I was dreaming, but it was so real at the same time.”
“Well, I promise, you’re awake now. And so am I. You damn near gave me a heart attack.”
“Hmm . . .” My hand slides down his chiseled stomach. We’re still naked. I find his thick fullness with my fingers and wrap around him. He jerks in my grasp and is hard almost instantly. “Maybe we should make sure. You know, just so I know we’re really awake.”
“About that,” he murmurs into my hair. “We got kind of messy in my half-ass, half-conscious attempt to dispose of the condom. Shower with me?”
Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse.
Our bodies seem to have magnetized during our lovemaking, or fucking, or whatever that glorious experience should be called. We remain connected in one way or another as we make our way to the bathroom—his arm around my waist, a hand on my back, my face to his chest, his fingers in my hair, and finally I get brave and press my lips to his when he stands from leaning over to turn on the shower.
“You taste like rain . . . and like me,” I tell him when we eventually pull apart.
He grins at me, the seductive heat of want returning to the gleam in his eye. “Oh yeah? Well, I must taste fucking amazing then. Because I can honestly say, until tonight that strawberry ice cream I licked off your stomach was my favorite, but now . . .” He pauses and glances over my head in the mirror. “Now I can honestly say, you, Dixie Leigh Lark, are my favorite flavor.”
Turning to see what has caught his eye, I stare at our naked figures in the mirror before the thick steam covers it.
“We look good together,” I whisper.
Gavin meets my gaze in the mirror and nods his agreement almost imperceptibly. With his arms covered in ink and my shoulders and waist decorated as well, we look like an erotic oil painting. I watch our conjoined reflection as his hand snakes around my waist, dipping lower in a way that causes my bones to liquefy.
His other arm wraps around me higher and his hand massages my breasts gently.
I let out a throaty approval of his ministrations. “God, Gavin. I don’t want you to stop touching me. Please never stop touching me.” I mean ever, as in, ever, but he doesn’t seem to need or want clarification.
His mouth meets me ear and I can’t tear my eyes away from the glass.
“Spread your legs for me,” he says low in my ear, causing me to quiver noticeably in his arms. “Please,” he adds when I don’t comply immediately.
“Since you said please,” I answer, doing as he requested.
“That’s it, baby. Just like that.” My nipples harden from his praise and unwavering stare. Gavin’s expert fingers find my most sensitive spot immediately as he slides through my center, dipping in and out of my opening. “My sweet, wet girl.” The mirror shows me his muscular forearms flexing at his efforts and I could come again already.
“I might not be able to stand up in the shower if you keep going.”
His hand stills between my legs and his arousal strokes my bare ass. “You want me to stop?”
I shake my head, still held captive in his gaze like prey locked in a predator’s in the mirror. “I just want to make sure you’re okay with holding me up and bathing me.”
“Anytime, Bluebird. Anytime.” Gavin grins and quirks an eyebrow before breaking our bonded stares to dip his head and place a searing kiss against the sensitive skin on my neck.
My whimpered moans escalate to pleading cries as he strokes my heat more intently.
“Gavin, oh God.” My voice is strained, as is my entire body. I buck hard against him, and he tightens his hold on me.
“Please,” I beg, but I can’t get anything else out of my mouth that makes sense.