Mended (Connections, #3)(85)

“I’m going to take you now,” he growls.

I close my eyes and the water sprays against my face. Resting my forehead on his shoulder as he strokes inside me, I lose all thoughts. “Don’t come yet,” he whispers and I open my eyes. He quickly presses me back against the tile and pushes my feet apart. He kisses my neck, sucks on my nipple, and I have to clutch his muscular back to hold on. “Don’t come,” he growls again. “I want to be inside you when you come.”

Goose bumps cover my body as I try to hold on—the water, him, it’s all too much. I’m still wrapped up in the pleasure of him when he slides into me without warning. I suck in a breath and enjoy his hard cock as he thrusts into me. He moves at a slow pace, much slower than earlier today.

Standing on my tiptoes, I run my fingers through his hair. Then I clutch the muscles of his arms with my hands, pushing myself farther back against the cool marble wall of the shower so he can press farther into me. When I lift my chin I notice the look on his face. That combined with the water dripping in small, even streams from his head to his cheek to his shoulder to where my hands are grasping, squeezing, as he moves in and out, is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. When I drop from my toes, his cock goes even deeper inside me. I moan in pleasure at the feeling and he seems to lose complete control—his hooded eyes and the look on his face is one of pure pleasure.

I scream, “Oh God, Xander,” as my back bows and my inside muscles tighten around him.

“Do that again,” he pants, his hot breath caressing my ear.

I do it again and another peak rolls through me before the first one’s even ended. Then I do it again, and this time the overwhelming sensation takes us both, making me feel like the two of us have become one.

“Fuck, Ivy,” he mutters. Resting his head against mine, he manages, “Put your arms around my neck.”

When I do he buries himself in me and the pleasure is pure, raw, full of energy. His mouth slams to mine as we experience something that is beyond anything I’ve ever felt and I hope beyond anything he has ever felt as well. My heart stills, my breathing stops, and I let this feeling consume me. Let him own me with everything I have and everything he has. His body goes limp against my already boneless one and together we stand under the shower trying to recover from something I want to feel over and over.

I cling to him for support and he buries his head in my neck. After a while he lifts my chin. “I’ve never felt anything like that,” he tells me, his mouth lifting slightly as his hooded gaze tells me how much he loves me.

“Neither have I,” I manage, relishing the feeling of his stubbled jaw against my skin.

He grins and then runs his fingers through my hair as his lips dance over mine.

I trace the rim of his collarbone, then wrap my arms around him as the water cascades over us. “I love you so much.”

He sighs contentedly and then whispers against my lips, “I’ve always loved you,” and his words echo with happiness through me because I know he has.

? ? ?

An hour later it’s almost time to leave. Soft music plays from the bedroom and when I glance up from the vanity, my heart beats that familiar thumping. Xander’s standing there with one shoulder propped against the wall, just watching me. He can say so much with just a look—the quirk of his mouth and the rise of his brow make my body flush all over.

“Will you zip my dress?” I ask him, trying not to drool at how incredibly hot he looks in his suit, with no tie, of course. Just like roses, he thinks wearing a tie with a suit is too expected. I turn around as he enters. Damp towels are on the floor from our shower, my makeup is scattered across the vanity, and my dress hangs on the hook behind the door.

Xander loves the dark blue sapphire satin because he says it matches my eyes. It’s short, sleeveless, and just about backless. First, letting his fingertips skim across my skin, he ties the cord that spans my back and holds the dress in place, and I shiver. He moves to the zipper at my side and with his finger he trails a line from my hip to under my arm. He takes his time zipping it and when he’s done he smooths the zipper with his palm and I can barely keep myself upright.

He’s quiet. Not saying a word. I turn around to face him and he’s pressing his fist into his mouth.

“You said you loved it?”

“Fuck, Ivy, it’s sexy as hell,” he growls.

I smile and blush at the same time.

“But don’t you think there’s a little too much skin showing in the back?” he asks.

This actually makes me laugh. I used to think he didn’t want me to show off my body because he didn’t like other guys to see it. But now I think I was wrong—it’s because him seeing so much skin drives him wild, and I love that! I step close to him. “I think it’s the perfect amount of skin,” I whisper hotly against his lips.

He catches my mouth and kisses me. “Yeah, for roving hands who want to feel you in places where they shouldn’t be,” he breathes, sliding a hand into the side of my dress and squeezing my breast.

Smiling, I say, “Trust me, you’re the only one thinking that way.”

I turn around and throw him a wink, but before I can move away his hands are on my hips and when I rock back against him, I can feel the heat and hardness of his cock beneath the layers of fabric. He mumbles something against my skin that sounds like, “Fuck, you’d think I was fourteen again,” but I don’t ask why because the softness of his mouth in my ear and the feel of his breath against my cheek is all I care about. He turns me around and anchors his hips to mine. He slips his arms around my waist and I place mine around his neck. His feet start to move in a slow circle—he’s dancing with me in the bathroom. I strain to hear the lyrics to the song playing as his fingers trace the exposed bumps of my spine. He draws me closer and I can smell his cologne—a mix of the sea, the sun, the earth, and a Mediterranean breeze. I breathe him in and become intoxicated by his scent.