Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(25)

“Hello?” I call, hoping my would-be assailant is my super tall, hunky date.

I’m answered by the metal-on-metal sound of decorative shower curtain rings sliding along the rod. I peek over my shoulder.

“Who’d you think it was?” Davis’s handsome face appears in the gap of the curtain, his hungry gaze sliding down over my bare ass and up again while I futilely cover my breasts.

Then.

He gets in.

“What are you doing?” The words escape me on a breath strangled with lust because Davis’s ass is also bare. He adjusts the shower curtain to keep our steamy shower hot and lays cool hands on my hips.

A kiss lands on my shoulder and his heat blankets me from behind, though nothing other than his hands have touched me.

Yet.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, kissing my shoulder again.

I chuckle. It’s a little late for that question, and he knows it. He also knows the answer as well as I do. I don’t mind if he joins me.

“You startled me,” I purr, tipping my head to one side as he feathers kisses along my throat. His hands wrap my waist and splay over my belly. “I thought you were a robber.”

“Not a robber,” he murmurs, his tongue laving my earlobe before he suckles it between his teeth.

He is so good at that move.

“Unless you want me to be. The platinum includes role-playing.” Hands on my hips, he turns me, and I duck my head to avoid getting doused. He notices and trades places with me, the water is warming his back instead.

“Smooth, Romeo,” I scold him. “Now I’m cold.”

“You won’t be cold for long, Gracie.”

Can I confess something? Whenever he adds that “-ie” to my name, I melt. It’s the way he says it. Like I’m his and his alone. Like he’s branding me as his. He says my name with possession and confidence and familiarity. Each time he extends my name to two syllables, I know I’ll do whatever he wants.

Whatever he asks.

I take advantage of our close, wet quarters to run my eyes down his body and appreciate every nuance. I didn’t take careful inventory the first night we slept together. Or the next morning. We were too busy…well, getting busy.

Not now, though. We have all the time we need.

I start with his hair, which he soaks in the shower spray and smooths off his face. His sandy brown is darker wet, and his long eyelashes spike when he swipes the water from his face. Davis has great cheekbones, an angled jaw built from determination, and a full, firm bottom lip designed to drive women wild. It’s no secret my spine turns to jelly whenever he kisses my neck.

He winds one of the curls that flopped out of my clip around his finger as I reach out and brush his pecs. Firm and round and punctuated by flat nipples. I run my fingers down to abs that aren’t too pronounced but cut enough that I’m able to trace them with my nails. His muscles clench as I continue my exploration with my eyes and with my fingers. I run my hands over the manscaped thatch of hair above a penis now happily jutting to attention.

“Hello there.” I grip him in my palm, smoothing the skin over the head and down again as lust crashes into Davis’s storm gray gaze.

His hands go to my jaw, tipping my chin as he lowers his mouth to mine. He grows rigid in my fist as our kisses turn more desperate. More pronounced. More insistent.

He pushes my back to the shower wall, snatches both my wrists, and presses them over my head. My chest heaves as he watches me, desire thrumming mercilessly between my legs as he holds both my hands with one of his and draws a slow line between my breasts.

His fingers circle one areola. My back arches. Then that talented tongue of his closes over one nipple. He pulls me deep into his mouth as a moan of satisfaction works its way from my throat. When he releases my hands, I transfer them to his hair as he slides his fingers between my legs. He finds me as warm and wet as the water surrounding us. An answering groan comes from him as he continues swirling his tongue over the turgid flesh.

I start to crest, rolling onto the balls of my feet, my muscles tightening in my legs—in my entire body. He plunges a finger deep inside me, working my clitoris with his thumb. When he lowers his mouth to my nipple again, I explode like a shattering pane of glass.

A strong arm wraps around my back as my orgasm rocks me. I lower my heels to the slick tub floor, and Davis’s mouth presses against my forehead, where my now-damp hair has slid from the clip and is mopping the wet wall behind me. Wet hair is a small price to pay for this much pleasure.

As my breaths lengthen and slow, I hum a happy sigh. My eyes are closed but Davis is smiling. His chest rumbles when he chuckles.

“I really enjoy doing that for you.”

I really enjoy doing it, I think, but only have enough energy to emit another satisfied hum.

The next sound is of the water being turned off, and I lazily open my eyes. My body is overheated, my limbs weakened. I could fall asleep right where I’m leaning.

Davis steps out of the tub and hands me a cream-colored towel before lifting a robin’s-egg blue towel to his hair and scrubbing it dry. I keep my eyes on the droplets rolling over the landscape of his perfect form. Each elongated muscle and limb is a work of art.

I move to climb out of the tub, and he offers his hand like I’m a lady exiting a carriage. A small laugh escapes me as I step onto the fluffy rug outside the shower.