Raw Redemption (Crossing the Line #4)(60)

Ailish’s eyelids grew heavy, warmth growing heavy in her belly. She braced her hands on the pool’s edge and climbed out, aware of the water running down her body. Over her breasts, loosely contained as they were in the teal-green triangles of her bikini. When she’d chosen it out of her dresser drawer, pride had prevented her from admitting the hope that she’d run into Henrik. Now her pride presented itself in a different way. She wanted some control back. There was a way to accomplish that. Recognizing and embracing the need to act out physically was just like slipping naked into cool, crisp, silk bedsheets.

Night was falling, the encroaching darkness accelerated by the surrounding walls of the house. Only the barest amount of moonlight shone in, giving her an excuse to be bolder, more daring than she would be in the daylight.

Henrik stepped back as Ailish exited the pool, throwing a look over his shoulder toward the house before giving her his full attention. “Are you…” His cautious gaze ran the length of her without moving his head, the deep voice of his emerging as if scraped over a bed of nails. “How are you?”

Ailish gathered her wet hair and squeezed out the excess moisture. Then she stretched her arms up, piling the tresses on top of her head, swaying slowly as she secured a bun. “I’m just fine.” She watched Henrik follow the droplets of moisture coasting down her stomach, absorbing into the thin material of her abbreviated bottoms. “Did you need something?”

His throat muscles shifted. “Your break has gone on long enough. Time to head back.”

She blinked away the red screen that dropped in front of her vision. “And you’re going to escort me back to my cell?”

“You’re safer indoors,” he answered in a low tone. “Wrap a towel around yourself and get inside.”

Henrik was right. She knew that. Since she’d run away, a shift had taken place at her father’s house, and the landscape wasn’t entirely the same as it had been. The energy was uncomfortable, clinging to the walls in every room like the ivy she’d stopped appreciating. If the men were no longer ruled by fear of repercussions from her father, Ailish was in more danger than ever. But it was hard to reason with herself under the influence of a thrumming pulse, excitement tickling up the inside of her thighs, and Henrik looming so close, clearly wanting to devour her. “I’m not ready to go inside.”

“Do you need to be carried?”

He didn’t want to do it. Didn’t want to take away her free will—that much was plain in his expression. But he would if she pushed him far enough. And the secret, wicked part of her wanted to taunt him. Force him into cracking. Being just that much more like everyone else. Ailish dropped down onto the lounge chair where she’d laid a towel earlier, smoothing her feet up and back the terry cloth material. Up and back. Up and back. Stretching her thigh muscles out, then drawing them back in. Watching Henrik through half-closed eyes, she let her fingers dance on the propped-up tops of her knees, slowly dragging them down toward her center, arching her back as they traveled.

“Goddammit, Ailish.” Henrik stepped closer to the lounge chair. “Stop this. They’re downstairs now, but they could come looking for me.”

Fingers playing around the edge of her bikini bottoms, Ailish trapped a moan at the bright gold brilliance of tempting a man. This man. Being angry or disappointed in him didn’t remove the need. He’d purchased property in the circle of her desire and couldn’t be evicted. But she could harness the lust, direct it where she chose, and regain some of the power that place took away.

And yes, yes, she wanted Henrik to break. Wanted his hands on her body, even for just a few stolen seconds. It was no use denying it. Henrik’s touch had gone from craving to requirement. And she wouldn’t consider that a weakness, as long as Henrik had the same requisite need for her. His shallow breathing and barely audible groans as she toyed with the scant material of her bottoms was proof enough. “If they come looking for you, they won’t be surprised to find me being bad. As long as you don’t give in, you’re not breaking any rules.”

His shin bumped the chair. “I’ve been inside you. I know you treat my cock like your own private f*ck toy. So not breaking the rules is going to be a lot harder for me than any of these pathetic motherf*ckers.”

A flush blasted over Ailish’s skin, head to toe. “It’s a good thing I left the necklace in my room.”

“It’s not a good thing,” he growled. “You should have it on you at all times.”

Undeterred by the reprimand, Ailish trailed her fingers up her rib cage and slipped them beneath the barrier of her bikini top. Her skin was still wet from the pool, making her breasts slick as she cupped them, massaging in a slow rhythm. “Feels so good. I haven’t touched myself since the cabin.”

“When?” Henrik asked hoarsely. “Tell me exactly when it was, damn me for asking.”

Victory collided with lust and streaked through her middle. “The morning you left. Right afterward, when I was still—”

“Still what?”

She peeled back her top, allowing her breasts to pop free. Then she walked her fingers down, past her belly button, to tease the material of her bottoms. “I was still so wet,” Ailish breathed. “I moaned your name into a towel while Erin and Connor were right outside.”

“Enough.” He dropped a knee onto the chair, making it creak and undermining his command. He’s so huge. His body blocked out everything but the wild, spinning desire for him to crack. To drop his weight down onto her and admit defeat. “You don’t have a f*cking clue what you look like, laid out all wet and naked, do you? Tits bouncing around. Those bottoms so wet, I can see the slit between your thighs.” He raked a hand over his open mouth, all while perusing her body with sexual intent. “If we were anywhere else, I wouldn’t be acting right, Ailish. I’d have a hand slapped over your mouth and I’d be using you up without a hint of gentle. You understand?”