Be With Me(45)

“Sawyer, what are you doing?” He paused a mere second before pinning her with glittering eyes, and then he resumed the shucking of his clothes. She glanced nervously down at Cam and then over at Hutch, but neither offered a single word.

When Sawyer was down to his boxers, he held out a hand to her. She eyed him in confusion, not at al understanding what the hel was going on. Surely they weren’t . . . not now.

With an impatient sigh, Sawyer snagged her hand and pulled her to stand in front of him. Before she could speak or react, he turned her in the direction of the bathroom and planted a firm hand in the middle of her back.

She lurched forward, and he grabbed her arm with his other hand to steady her. He flipped on the lights in the bathroom as they entered. Her bare feet met the cool tile, and she halted to stare at her nearly naked body in the mirror.

The eyes that stared back at her weren’t hers.

Hers weren’t so haunted, her face not so drawn.

Sawyer reached in to turn the shower on. When he turned back to her, he slid his boxers off, giving her an unabashed view of his cock. She averted her eyes as heat singed her cheeks. But she was compel ed to look back.

It wasn’t the first time or even the second she’d seen him nude, but the sight never ceased to affect her. He had a beautiful body. Al hard muscles and smooth planes.

Light hair dotted the upper portion of his chest then tapered into a thin line that led to his navel and below to the dark thatch at his groin.

His c**k was semi-erect, and this time she couldn’t look away. She remembered al too wel how he’d tasted, how he’d felt sliding over her tongue, between her lips. She closed her eyes to banish the images of that night.

“Ditch the underwear, Reggie.”

Her eyes flew open again.

“You and I have a date with the shower.” Hesitantly, she hooked her thumbs into the thin band of her panties and began inching them down.

They fel to the floor at her feet, and Sawyer again held out his hand to her.

Her legs trembled as she tucked her fingers into his. He pulled her into the shower after him and positioned her under the spray.

She closed her eyes as water coursed over her face. When she opened them again, Sawyer was staring fiercely at her, his eyes glittering like ice chips.

He framed her face in his hands, his thumbs resting on her cheekbones. Then he backed her against the wal of the shower as his lips descended to hers.

His body pressed in against hers, covering her and molding her softness to his hard contours. He didn’t simply kiss her. He devoured her. Hot and hungry, with a restless, desperate need that left her aching.

His hands shook against her face. He moved from her lips to her eyes, pressing light kisses against her lids and then her cheeks and to her ears. Then he stopped and buried his face in her neck.

His cock, swol en and hard, butted against her bel y. Burning. His heat, combined with that of the water, singed her skin like a firestorm.

“I almost lost you,” he whispered so low she almost didn’t hear over the water.

No longer wil ing to play a passive role, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders then slid one hand up the column of his neck to cup the back of his head.

He raised his head, and her hands fel away. Raw emotion bubbled in his eyes. There was so much fear. She felt an uncomfortable twinge in the vicinity of her heart.

“You didn’t lose me.”

He gathered her hands in his and raised them to his lips, turning one over to press a gentle kiss to her palm.

Water beaded and rol ed down his broad chest, and she fol owed the rivulet with her gaze until it slithered past his protruding cock.

Her fingers tingled with the need to touch him, to reach out and grasp the hard flesh, but to her surprise he simply turned her around and reached for the soap.

He washed every inch of her skin. Every scrape, every bruise, each pinkened spot from the heat of the blast. His hands slid down her body with ease, to her bel y, and then he paused and inched them back up to her br**sts.

He cupped the mounds and brushed his thumbs across the taut points of her ni**les. A smal gasp escaped her parted lips. He continued to gently knead the globes, lathering the soap in bubbly circles.

Then he placed both hands flat against her body and smoothed them downward, over her abdomen.

He skimmed over the wet curls between her legs to the inner portion of her thighs.

The edges of his fingers brushed ever so softly over her pu**y as he worked his way in and then down the inside of her legs.

He knelt on one knee and picked up one smal foot, placed it on his other knee and soaped it with infinite care.

As long as she lived, she’d never forget the image of this big man kneeling in the shower, almost humbly as he washed her feet. There was such reverence, such love and concern in his actions, his every touch and caress.

Tears burned the corners of her eyes.

She was a fool for running for so long.

When he’d finished both feet, he rose and reached for the shampoo. He squeezed a generous amount into his hands and gently worked it into her hair, taking care around the gash at her hairline.

There was a slight pinch as he ran his thumb over the cut to wash the dried blood away. She tried to control the wince but her eye twitched.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the cut.

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She smiled and reached up to wipe the soap from his mouth. “It’s okay.”