Undenied (Unspoken #3)(22)

He stepped over the side of the tub, giving her a fantastic view of his cock, still stiff and distended. She reached her hand up to cup his balls, sliding her fingers out and over his erection.

He paused in mid-stride and closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds before gently disentangling himself from her grasp. Grabbing a towel from the rack, he whipped it around his waist, tucking one of the ends in so it would stay.

Then he bent down to get his wallet out of his jeans pocket and headed for the door. She craned her head, trying to see around his big body as he opened the door, but whoever was there was firmly hidden from view.

Ah well, it didn’t matter. She was enjoying all of Wes’s surprises so far. She sank back into the tub, reclining so the water seeped up to her neck.

A few seconds later, Wes shut the door and she looked over to see him carrying several containers of food to the table. He glanced up and met her gaze then smiled.

“Take your time. I’m going to set up our dinner and then I’ll get you out of the tub.”

Just the way he said “get you out of the tub” sent a hundred different shivers and sparks down her spine and tightened the nerves between her legs until she had to force herself to relax.

She watched him from underneath half-lidded eyes as he prepared the table, still dressed in just a towel. Too bad telekinesis was only

something for the movies because she could really use some right now. With one mental push she could tear that towel right off him.

Nude food preparation. Now there was a concept. If they all looked as good as Wes, she could envision a successful catering business centered around that idea.

Wes walked toward the tub, the towel sliding precariously down one hip. Just an inch more. He tugged it back up. Damn.

He reached down, cupping her face in his hands. His lips pressed lightly to hers, kissing her with gentle regard. Then he slid his hands down her body and urged her up.

When she stood, he reached for a large towel and wrapped it around her then helped her over the side of the tub. The simple process of drying her off became deliciously erotic at his hands.

He took one end of the cloth and rubbed in small areas, light, teasing, sometimes hovering over particularly sensitive spots. He brushed the tips of her br**sts. Her ni**les drew tight into hard points, and he dragged the soft towel over them again.

Her limbs felt laden, warm, satisfied. A comfortable lethargy settled over her as he massaged down her body, taking care not to miss a single inch.

When his cloth-covered hand delved gently between her legs, she widened her stance to give him better access. The edge of the towel rasped over her clit, and in response, a spasm worked from her pelvis into her belly.

The towel fell to the floor in a heap, and she sighed in regret that the sensual drying was over.

Wes walked over to the closet and pulled out a bathrobe then returned and held it open for her to stick her arms in the sleeves. When it fell over her shoulders, he gathered the lapels and pulled it closed in front, securing the ties in a double knot.

He kissed her once on the lips. “Let’s eat.”

Chapter Nine

Payton sat across from Wes at the small table, watching him as he ate. The food was good. Chinese takeout. But she’d be lying if she said she remembered that much about the taste other than the preliminary flavor as it hit her tongue. She was way too absorbed in the moment, in wondering what he’d planned next.

He watched her, too. Chewing slowly, he held his gaze on her, his eyes dark with the promise of what was yet to come.

The towel had come loose before he sat, barely staying up on his hips. She wanted to see him, wanted to see just how far that towel had fallen, but his lower body was hidden by the table.

She bit her cheek to staunch the impish grin that threatened to take over as an idea came to her. With careful nonchalance, she raised her foot, stretching her leg until she brushed against the inside of his thigh.

He flinched as her foot traveled higher, and he leveled a baleful stare at her.

When she reached the hard line of his cock, he grabbed her foot with his hand, holding her there.

“How am I supposed to eat with you doing that?”

She grinned innocently.

He continued to hold her foot in his hand as he ate with the other. He cupped and massaged the instep, kneading with his fingers.

She all but wilted in her chair. Forgotten was the food (or anything else for that matter). She leaned back and propped her other foot between his legs.

“Like that?” he asked as his hand closed around her other foot.

“I like anything that has to do with your touch,” she said softly. “My hands, my feet, my body. I’m like a cat. Pet me and I’ll purr.”

He set her feet gently back down on the floor then scooted his chair back and stood. The towel fell completely away, and she could see his cock, semi-erect, thick and heavy. He walked the step around the table so he was catty-corner to her and held out his hand.

“I plan to do a lot of petting tonight,” he said.

She slid her hand into his and stood. He reached down with his free hand and untied the belt of her robe. When the ends dangled to the floor, he impatiently shoved it over her shoulders, bearing her naked body to his avid gaze.

She stepped forward, closing the short distance between them. His c**k brushed against her belly, and she raised her hand to grasp the turgid flesh. Like iron encased in silk. Hard, rigid, strong, the epitome of all a man should be. Yet soft, silken, warm and velvet in her palm.