Colters' Daughter (Colters' Legacy #3)(24)

She wiped her hands down her jeans and then turned them palms up. “This is it, Max. You wouldn’t let me pack a bag. I don’t have anything else to wear.”

He smiled. “While you’re here, I’d prefer you wear nothing. I’ll make a call and have something delivered this evening for you to wear shopping tomorrow.”

“Nothing?” She arched a brow and glanced at him as if gauging whether or not he was serious.

“Nothing at all,” he murmured. “In fact, I’d like it a lot if you undressed now.”

Her nose wrinkled. “I need a shower. Traveling makes me feel grimy.”

“I’ll draw you a bath or you can use the shower. Your choice.”

“Or you could shower with me,” she suggested impishly.

“Or I could take a shower with you,” he agreed. “Afterward, we’ll sit in front of the fire and I’ll comb your hair for you.”

“Oh, you do spoil me, Max,” she said with a sigh. “No one has ever taken care of me like you.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her nose. “That’s a good thing. I’d prefer I do all the taking care of you.”

Just the image of her in the shower all slicked down with water had him so hard he hurt. What he really wanted to do was to f**k her against the shower wall and then push her to her knees and have her suck him off while water beat down on them.

Only the fact that she looked tired and she hadn’t slept the night before—not to mention he’d made love to her tirelessly and she was likely sore—kept him from stripping her down right then and there and hauling her into the shower to have her.

A little TLC wouldn’t be remiss. Even if it killed him.

She leaned into him and hugged him as she snuggled her face into his chest. He loved that. Loved how warm and soft she felt in his arms and how she melted against him.

He circled her body with his arms and squeezed, content to just hold her.

Finally he pulled away and laced his fingers through hers. He tugged her toward the master bedroom and the huge bathroom with the Jacuzzi tub and the separate shower.

He left her long enough to turn on the water and then he returned. When she would have begun undressing, he gently captured her wrist.

“Let me.”

She lowered her hand and curled her fingers into a fist at her side. Her blue eyes darkened to storm clouds and hunger flared.

Sometimes it was painful to be around her. They never seemed to get enough. The passion between them was a living, breathing thing. He’d never experienced such a raw desperation for a woman and certainly hadn’t had a woman respond to him as Callie did.

They were matching halves. Their chemistry was perfect. She was perfect.

Beautiful, submissive, so hungry to please and to be pleased.

He could be himself with her. He didn’t have to pretend. He didn’t have to hold back. She took everything he gave her and wanted—no demanded—more.

She wasn’t offended by his need to control—to dominate. She offered herself so sweetly that it made his gut ache. No one had ever given themselves so freely. And he had tried his best to f**k it up.

All because of a promise.

He shook away the unwelcome intrusion of his darker thoughts and unsnapped Callie’s jeans. Steam began rising from the shower and he eased the pants down her legs.

Leaving them bunched around her ankles, he pulled at her shirt until she was clad in just her bra and panties.

Unable to resist, he knelt in front of her and pressed a kiss to the silky V of her underwear. Her mound was soft beneath and teased his lips. Frustrated with the barrier, he thumbed the band and worked the lace over her hips until the soft triangle of hair was exposed to his gaze.

“You’re so soft and feminine.”

He rose up and tongued her navel and then nibbled a path around it. She thrust her fingers into his hair and held his head against her body as he kissed her lovingly.

“Step away,” he directed as he rose to his feet.

She kicked out of her jeans and underwear, and then he pulled her against his chest until her br**sts pushed over the cups of her bra.

“Perfect. Just perfect.”

He cupped one and lifted until her nipple peeked over the peach-colored lace of her bra. The delicate coral peak beckoned him, and he lowered his head. He flicked out his tongue and traced the top of her areola until her nipple puckered and poked rigidly outward.

Another little push and her breast was free from the cup. He rubbed his tongue over the bud and then sucked it between his teeth.

She gasped and stumbled. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tightly as he licked and teased the delicious treat.

“Shower’s ready.”

“Tease,” she grumbled.

He grinned and all but carried her backward through the open shower door and into the hot spray. She immediately let out a groan of pleasure as the heat sluiced over them both.

He prodded until her head fell back, baring her neck to his seeking mouth. Despite his determination not to start anything, he found he couldn’t stop himself. She was an addiction. A fire in his blood he hadn’t a hope of quenching.

Breathing hard, he tore himself from the taste of her skin and stood back for a moment to collect himself.

She reached for the shampoo, but he wrested it from her grip and dumped some of the liquid into his hand. He began at the top of her head and worked the shampoo into her hair. After he rinsed, he grabbed a washcloth and tormented them both by soaping every inch of her delectable body from head to toe, paying extra attention to the parts in between.