Leave Me Love (Call Me Cat Trilogy #2)(3)

He laughed. "Come on." He helped me in the tub.

"This was a bad idea."

"Why?"

Because this seems more intimate than sex. I'm naked and you're not. I haven't shaved all week. You can see every flaw, every imperfection under these damn fluorescent lights. "It's nothing. Nothing you did. We should just—"

"Catelyn."

"Yes?"

"You're beautiful."

I could almost believe him, but I'd been passed out for a week. Bruises that would have been bright purple, blue and black had faded into a blotchy, watery version of their former selves. I'd lost too much weight. My ribs and hipbones poked out in a way that wasn't at all sexy or flattering, and one look at my hair had depressed me. I was pale with dark circles under my eyes. I looked like crap.

But I was glad he disagreed.

"No sex," I said again. And I sunk into the tub, grateful for the bars and steps built in to support the convalescing. I had my bandages removed, and the heat stung the scabbing cuts around my ankles and wrists. I pulled my knees to my chest, covering as much as possible.

Ash snickered, but didn't say anything. Using supplies provided by the nurse, who had raised an eyebrow and smirked when she'd brought them in and disconnected my IV, he poured soap onto a sponge and started rubbing my back. "Relax."

I tried, but his presence excited every muscle.

"Relax."

I sighed. "You're very demanding, Bath Boy."

He dipped the sponge into the hot water and squeezed it over my head.

"Hey." I swatted at him, but he pulled back.

"Just doing my job. Here, let Bath Boy show you how it's done." He massaged my shoulders, his hands warm like the water, and the tension began to leave.

I closed my eyes, enjoying the soft touch of his fingers, imagining them all over me, lower, lower…

"Lower?"

I gasped. "What?"

"You want my hands lower?"

God. Did I say that out loud? "Yes. Lower… on my back."

"Sure." He slid his hands down my spine, like a knife cutting through stress, and massaged my hips, his fingers brushing my ass. I imagined those fingers inside me, spreading me, filling me. But I'd said no sex. I couldn't give in now.

"Let's get back to the bath, Bath Boy."

"Certainly." He washed my hair using the removable showerhead, avoiding the lump on the back of my head. After rinsing out the shampoo, he started at the bottom of my feet, massaging my soles and moving up my legs, his hands skilled at finding each tense muscle and working it until it relaxed under his strong, long fingers.

Those damn fingers again. I used to envision them when we had phone sex, rubbing my nipples, my thighs. God, his hands reached my thighs. I pulled my legs apart, giving him access to all of me, then shut them.

"What kind of bath is this?" I teased.

He gripped my thighs, his voice laced with desire. He had greed in his eyes. Lust in his hands. "The kind you'll never forget."

He spread my legs apart, my body flaring, melting us together. Where his hand gripped my thighs it burned hottest, like a fountain of fire and passion. I wanted to swim in it. To lose myself in liquid ecstasy.

But… "Oh, God… Ash…" I wanted to say no, to protest. My mind demanded I speak up, but my body refused to form the words that would stop his fingers from exploring me.

His nails dug into my skin, feeding the furnace within. His other hand slid between my legs and his fingers spread me, inching inside as his thumb rubbed against my clit.

"Ash…" We shouldn't. But I wanted it, didn't I? I could stop him. Could tell him no. But I didn't, because it felt too good and I needed that. I needed a moment of bliss.

He released my thigh and explored my breasts, teasing each nipple until they were hard and throbbing, ready to erupt.

"Ash… Ash… Oh, God."

He pressed his lips into my neck, and my words turned into a moan. I arched my hips toward his hand, wanting his fingers deeper, wanting all of him.

"You like my fingers in your *?"

"I… I…"

He started to pull out.

"Yes. I love them. I f*cking love them."

He shoved them back in, sending shivers through me. "Don't think I haven't noticed you staring at my fingers. You want to come on them, don't you?"

"Yes."

"You want to kiss them, don't you?"

"Yes."

He put a hand to my lips and I sucked on his thumb, pressure building in me like a wave about to crest.

"Come on my f*cking fingers, Catelyn. Come for me."

I gave into the bliss, drowning myself in a tsunami of flame. "Yes. Yes." I bit down on his thumb, letting go of my fear and pain and worry of the future and surrendering to the pleasure he gave me in that moment.

His fingers stayed in me until my contractions abated, and my eyes opened as his lips claimed mine, the now-familiar taste of him a comfort to me even as it rekindled my arousal.

From the way his pants bulged, I wasn't the only one who wanted more.

As he helped me out of the bath, I rubbed my hand over his cock and whispered in his ear. "When I'm released from the hospital, I want to suck this."