Down and Out(72)

I’m almost finished with my shower when the bathroom door opens. The steam’s fogged up the shower curtain, but I can make out Savannah’s blurry figure as she steps inside and closes the door.
What’s she doing in here? She never comes in like this.
Frowning, I wash the soap off my chest then slide the shower curtain aside to peek out. She’s taking down her hair when I catch her eye. She pauses for a second, then lets her hair fall around her and pushes her sweatpants down her hips.
My jaw hits the floor the same time her pants do.
Before I can form coherent thoughts or words, she’s lifting her shirt and it’s joining the rapidly growing pile of clothes on the floor. Her panties and bra come off next, and when she pulls the shower curtain aside and steps in, all I can think is: Huh. They’re peach.
I move over until the water’s hitting my back and finally voice the one question I should’ve asked when she started taking off her clothes. “What the hell are you doing?” God, why does my voice sound so low and hoarse? You’d think I was being tortured instead of taking a shower with a beautiful girl.
Savannah licks her bottom lip and bites it. Her eyes flicker as she drops them to my chest, and I realize I’d been too preoccupied with the glorious sight of her naked body to notice it before. She’s nervous.
Her hand reaches out and grazes mine. The little touch sends tingles up my arm and straight through me, dampening the anger that’s been brewing in me for days. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still there. It’s just not the only thing I feel anymore.
My fingers skim her hips as my eyes roam over every gentle curve and dip, from the small swell of her breasts and her narrow waist, to the subtle flare of her hips and the valley between her legs. She’s flawless.
I don’t have it in me to deny her this, no matter how mad I am or how hurt. I’ll always want her, regardless of what she does or what painful words she throws my way. All she has to do is say the word, and I’m hers.
That probably makes me weak and pathetic, but right now I don’t care. Because right now I’m pulling her to me and bending down to kiss her.
I press her back against the wall and she gasps at the cold tile. My tongue slips into her mouth as my fingers dig into her sides.
It’s only been two days since I’ve felt her lips on mine, but it feels more like two years. I have no idea how I’ve made it so far in life without this girl, but one thing’s for sure: I won’t make it another day without her. The realization’s like a knife in the heart, because I know she doesn’t feel the same. She doesn’t need me like I need her, but I’m desperate to try and make her. So I kiss her harder, fiercer, like I can impart what I’m feeling into her.
Water splashes our sides and sprays across our chests as my hips push into hers, trapping my thickening shaft between us. Breathless, I lean back. Savannah pushes her plastered hair away from her face, and I watch the water sluice down her chest until it hits her hardened nipple.
My mouth is on her instantly, tasting the salt and water on her skin. She moans and threads her fingers in my wet hair, tightening them as I tease her.
I’m painfully hard and still utterly confused as to how we came to be like this in the shower. So while I’m still capable of rational thought, I pop her breast out of my mouth and rest my head against her shoulder.
“I’m still so mad at you.” My voice is nothing more than a raspy whisper as I cling to her hips. I’m afraid to let her go, afraid she could change her mind at any second and walk away from me.
“I know,” she murmurs, combing her fingers through my hair.
Straightening, I look down at her. “This doesn’t change anything, does it?” It’s not really a question since I already know the answer. “You’re still going through with it.”
Her gaze drops, and my heart drops with it. “I don’t want us to fight,” she says.
Neither do I. But she really f*cking hurt me, and I’m not sure I can pretend like everything’s all right, either. Not when the wound’s still this fresh.
The reminder sends a flare of pain through me and gives my next words an edge. “Then what do you want? Why did you come in here?” I lean down until my mouth brushes her ear. “Was it just to get f*cked?” My fingers trail up the insides of her thighs until I’m parting her folds and stroking her clit. “Is that all I am to you? Just a good lay?”
She moans as I push two fingers into her *. “I never said you were good.”
Her breathless taunt has me pulling back as I shake my head disapprovingly. Her and that f*cking mouth. . . I hate that I love it. “I’m gonna make you pay for that.”
She opens her mouth, no doubt to make some smartass retort, when I grab her behind the knees and lift her up. Pain weaves through my ribs and spreads out into my muscles, but it’s not enough to stop me.
Nothing is. Not even a goddamn apocalypse.
Savannah yelps and wraps her arms around my slick neck as I balance her against the wall. My cock slips through her ready folds, wet with arousal, until the tip becomes wedged at her entrance. She rocks her hips, trying to work me in. I bite back a curse and latch my mouth onto hers, kissing her in a frenzied rush of lips, teeth, and tongue.
My hips seem to start thrusting of their own accord, and pretty soon I’m sinking into tight, hot, wetness inch-by-agonizing-inch. I should probably care that I’m not wearing a condom, but I can’t, not when it feels this good. And Savannah hasn’t stopped me, so if she doesn’t care, then why should I?