Move the Sun (Signal Bend #1)(61)

Like this morning, for instance. She’d had an easy night without the dreams that drove her awake so often, and she’d woken before him, which was itself not an easy task. She’d been tempted to curl up close to him and sleep a little more, but then the thought came over her that she could shower alone. She’d sneaked into her own bathroom.

Normally, she would never be dodgy like this. She’d tell him to turn around and march his naked ass back out of the bathroom and wait his damn turn. But there he’d be. Naked and glorious, the lush long waves of his hair loose, his chest so goddamn broad and cut. And his cock. His brilliant cock, hard and ready for her. They didn’t f*ck in the shower, but he went down on her spectacularly, and she on him, and they’d be in there forever, wasting water.

She needed to talk to him when they weren’t both naked. But now, he was stepping in with her, and her nipples were pebbled in anticipation of his touch. His hands on her hips, he kissed her cheek without saying a word. Then he moved in front of her, into the stream of water, and wet his hair, his head tipped back, the water spraying across his face and beading on his beard. It was among the most erotic images she’d ever seen, and everything between her legs spasmed and clenched. He towered over her, his shoulders broad, his chest wide and rock hard. The muscles in his neck corded and flexed, tightening the leather around his neck, with the Mj?lnir medallion lying at the base of his throat.

Yeah, she couldn’t quite regret the loss of privacy, when it came in this enticing package.

Lilli put her hands up and slid her fingers into the hair on his chest, then dragged them slowly down, over his nipples—his hips flexed spastically—and the ridge of his pecs, down the banded muscle of his belly, into the nest of black hair. She gripped his cock with both hands and slid him back and forth through her fisted palms. Isaac rumbled deep in his chest, and Lilli looked up.

“I don’t like waking up alone in your bed. Or any bed. Not anymore.” He thrust against her grip, and she squeezed harder, until he groaned.

“I was just trying to squeeze in a shower before you woke up.” She gasped when his hand pushed between her legs and his fingers found her core, flexing inside her. The friction of his calloused palm on her clit weakened her knees, and he enfolded her in his other arm, holding her close.

“Why?”

With his fingers moving inside her and his palm rubbing on her, she was having enough trouble remembering to work his cock without trying to remember why she hadn’t told him she wanted privacy.

Why hadn’t she told him? So she did. “Sometimes I like to shower alone.” Why was that hard again?

He stopped moving all at once, and she thought she’d hurt his feelings. Oh, that’s why. She looked up; he was grinning at her. “Sport, I crowdin’ you? Why didn’t you say so?” He pulled his hand out and away, and she whimpered and clutched his cock more tightly.

“You don’t want me to go?” His voice was a mischievous, raspy whisper that she felt in her spine. Jesus, this guy was like a drug.

She pumped him harder, leaning her forehead against his chest as she did. “Well not now. But sometimes I just want to hop in, wash up, get out and get my day going.”

Even under the cover of his beard, she could see his jaw twitching with the strain of the orgasm she was wringing from him. He grunted and leaned forward, his hands on the back wall, caging her between his arms. “Shoulda said somethin’, Sport. I’d leave you alone. For a couple minutes.” The last few words came out hard, in wrenching gasps. Watching him near an orgasm was almost better than watching him have it.

When it was like this, only about him, he strove for it, instead of pushing it away, as he did when he was inside her.

He was close, grunting in time with the drag of her hands on his shaft. She felt his balls tighten, and she dropped to her knees, surprising him. She took him into her mouth, and sucked him as deep as she could manage. He went off immediately, shouting her name and punching the shower wall while she swallowed down what he gave her. It was so erotic and intense to feel that kind of power over him that she almost didn’t care if he paid her any reciprocal attention.

But he did.

oOo

Later, as they were cleaning up from breakfast—they’d picked up a domestic rhythm, whichever house they’d spent the night in, moving around each other fluidly as they cleared and rinsed and washed and wiped—Isaac stopped her progress in the kitchen doorway, grabbing her by the waist. “Come with me to Tulsa this weekend.”

It caught her completely off guard. She hadn’t known he was going to Tulsa, and the weekend started tomorrow. “What? Why?”

He tucked a lock of her loose hair behind her ear and leaned down to kiss her neck. “Few reasons. I got some club business to do. And I got a booth at an art show there for the weekend. You could be my booth babe. And I don’t want to spend the weekend away from you.” He winked, giving her a leering grin. “I usually stay in my camper, but for you, I’d spring for a hotel.”

Probably most anyone else would think this was an absurd time for a weekend getaway, in the middle of her plan to kill someone. But Hobson was away, and would be for some time yet. As for her actual work, she’d finish the last project she had today, and she could send word not to send her another until the weekend was over.

She hooked her hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I like the idea of the camper. Romantic.”