She would have left the shower if he hadn’t caught her and pulled her against him. The fire in her eyes was glorious, and ridiculous. But it didn’t stop him from smiling.
“Are you laughing at me?” she hissed, her cheeks an alarming shade of red.
“Are you telling me you’re jealous of my cousin?” he asked.
She frowned, relaxing against him.
“Abigail. She’s a school teacher in Wisconsin. We were close when we were little—the same age. Her husband is an engineer. They have two kids. I get a Christmas card every year. What else would you like to know?” His fingers skimmed along her spine.
She pinched him, hard.
“Ow.” He arched away from her. “What did I do?”
“You’re teasing me,” she returned, less irritated but still hostile.
“I didn’t think you’d give a crap about my cousin. In Wisconsin.” He smiled at her. “I’m still coming to terms with the fact that you were in my head.”
Her gaze fell from his and his arms tightened around her. His childhood was fairly commonplace. No skeletons in the family closet. Until Finn’s infection, life had been uneventful. Almost boring. He couldn’t remember what boring meant.
Her forehead rested against his chest. “Your parents look kind.”
“They are.” He continued to stoke her back.
“And your brother. I’m sorry about your brother.” She looked at him. “He was important to you?”
“He was.” His smile was sad. “He was a good brother.”
She cradled his face in her hands, her gaze growing thoughtful. Intense. Guarded.
“Stop overanalyzing this,” he whispered.
“This? Coming from you.” Her smile was hesitant.
“The irony isn’t lost on me,” he mumbled, watching the tip of her tongue slide along her full lower lip. Her even white teeth sank into the soft skin and she smiled.
“Distract me,” she whispered.
The urge to push her against the wall, sink his teeth into her lower lip, and thrust—hard—into her. His lungs emptied and his body hardened, ready and willing, and it scared the shit out of him. He wasn’t wired this way. He wasn’t Mal. This whole wolf thing wouldn’t dictate what he would or wouldn’t do. Even if he really wanted to do it. “No more sex,” he finished, gruffly.
Her mismatched eyes widened and her full lips pulled down.
She was pouting? How could he refuse her?
“You’re not enjoying yourself?” she asked, her hands sliding over the curve of his ass to grip him, hard. And just like that, he was rock-hard and pressing against her stomach.
She noticed, how could she not? Her sweet, excited smile had his resistance weakening.
His hands ran up her sides to cup her full breasts. Her nipples hardened in invitation. “I am.”
“There is so much to enjoy.” She arched into his touch, reaching down to slide her fingers along his dick. “You’re massive. And mine to enjoy.”
He liked hearing her say that. Calling him hers. Which was a fucking surprise. His brows rose. “And you like it.”
“I do,” she agreed, sliding her fingers along his shaft, gripping him and stroking him firmly. Her thumb traced the vein along the underside of his erection, then circled the crown. He jerked in her hand. “Very, very much.”
She shimmied down his body and knelt on the heated tile floor. Before he had time to react, her lips surrounded him. Her eyes met his while she took him deep into the wet heat of her mouth. His hands braced himself against the shower walls, his legs tightened and clenched. She gripped him in one hand, allowing herself to pump him into her mouth with ease.
“Oh fuck,” he ground out, his head falling back against the wall.