Falling for the Enemy (Private Pleasures 3)

She turned, rubbing her slick body against his in the process. Her eyes remained closed in deference to the shower’s spray, her face was flushed from the steam—and his touch. Lush, pink lips parted. “I must look a sight.”

“You’re beautiful.” And she was, even with mascara smeared under her eyes and down her cheeks. Had he ever told her so before? If not, why had he waited?

She rested her hands on his chest and made a negative sound. “I don’t feel so beautiful at the moment.”

He brought his hands to her face and swept his thumbs gently under her eyes, carefully wiping the makeup away. “You are, inside and out.”

He continued down the soft skin of her cheeks. “My mission tonight is to make sure you feel it—and I always complete my missions.” He traced the curves and dip of her upper lip with his fingertip and then brushed the pad of his finger over her lower one. They parted wider—an instinctive invitation. He brought his mouth close, but didn’t make contact. Her eyes opened and she stared into him while he ran his finger down her throat, along her collarbone, and then over the slope of her breast to the tight, round crest.

She sucked in a breath.

“Beautiful,” he said.

She made a move to try and capture the word—or more likely cut it off. He let their lips touch, and then pinched her nipple lightly and watched her pupils go dark and wide. She moaned into his mouth.

He squeezed shampoo from her hair and then ran his sudsy palms over her throat, and her breasts, lingering there until she arched into his touch and her low, languorous moans turned fast and edgy.

Then he went lower, moving his hand in a slow circle over her stomach. She parted her legs. He dipped his fingers between her thighs, but only grazed the outer folds. Her needy groan ended with a muted thump—the back of her head connecting with the tile wall. “I need you. Please. Make me forget everything except you, and me, and this.”

His cock jumped to do her bidding. “Steady,” he murmured, more to himself than to her, and hauled her up until she was braced between his hips and the wall. Her heels dug into the hollows behind his knees. “You have me, Virginia—as much as you need, for as long as you need me.”

The words applied to his heart and his soul, not just his body. Her round, stunned eyes told him she’d heard the deeper meaning, too, and wasn’t sure whether to trust her ears. Not the reaction he would have hoped for, but fair enough, considering she hadn’t asked for heart and soul from him, they’d never discussed the future, and standing in her shower, two seconds from giving her what she had asked for, wasn’t the time to bring up the rest of his shit. He retreated to safe territory. Sex. “For once we’re going to take this slow.”

He lifted his chin, brought his hand to the back of her head and captured her mouth, lingering there, gliding his tongue over hers in lazy, sweeping circles, as if he could reach some truth inside her if he could just go deep enough. She speared her fingers into his hair and made demanding sounds in the back of her throat. More.

He refused to rush, but he could give her more. Hand under her ass, he lifted her, let go, and she dropped down on him in one smooth, fluid slide. Her long, thankful moan echoed around him and then broke off into urgent little cries as she started to move.

“I need—I need—” she pleaded around his tongue, and struggled to find her rhythm, pushing herself until her breath came out in ragged pants and her body shook with the strain of chasing the orgasm.

“Be still. I’ve got you. I’m going to give you what you need.”

She fought a little longer, and he had to admire her stubborn streak, but moments later she sagged against him. He gripped her hips, holding her up and keeping her flush to the wall. “Don’t move. Tonight I take care of you.” When she finally nodded, he withdrew a few inches, circled his hips, and sank into her again.

She sighed and her head rolled against the tile. He repeated the motion, taking her a little higher, coming back a little harder each time. Within minutes she was finding ways to break the don’t-move rule—pressing her arches into his calves and using the leverage to meet his thrusts, but he stayed the course, drove her up and brought her down just a beat slower than he knew she preferred.

Her mouth found his. She sucked on his tongue with renewed fervor, pleading for speed, but he kept to his pace.

Water rained down on his head. Steam clouded his eyes. She was shaking, and that was okay, because he was shaking, too. He wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her up, up, up… Their mouths broke apart. The rest of her body clutched at him like a necessity.

“Sweet Virginia, are you ready to move?”

Her response was husky and needy and not particularly articulate, but he knew a yes when he heard one. He let go of her waist. She slammed down on him, dug her fingernails into his shoulders and surged up, and then hung there, quivering against him for one long, tense second. And then she went over. Head back, eyes closed, she cried his name…and pulled him into the eye of the storm.

He locked his legs and rode it out, somehow managing to keep them upright. When the last shudders subsided and she lay in his arms like a rag doll, he rinsed them both and then bundled her into the thick robe hanging from the hook on the bathroom door. Probably a bit much for summer, but she didn’t seem to mind. Then he carried her to bed.

They lay there, her snuggled at his side, and he watched her chest rise and fall. After a few minutes he turned out the light.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“I thought you were asleep. I would have turned it off sooner if I’d known it was bothering you.”

“Not the light. Thank you for…the shower. For taking care of me.” She raised her head and stared at him in the dark. “For dragging my mind away from what happened tonight and giving me something else to focus on instead.”

As if he could have done anything else. “Yeah. That was quite a sacrifice, but I’m a giver.”

She laughed, as he’d hoped, and settled against him again. A big part of him wanted to circle back to the whole “I’m here for you as long as you want” epiphany and feel her out…or, fuck it, just tell her, “I love you, but I’m through hiding this relationship. Make a choice. Me or the mayor’s race, but if being with me costs you the election, then this town doesn’t deserve you.” Everything else—his job, a home-base, the future—they’d figure out. But Virginia wouldn’t respond well to an ultimatum, and his timing couldn’t be worse, given the night she’d had and the fact that she was about to drift into some much needed sleep. He circled back to something more innocuous…something he was curious about, nothing more.

“What was the traffic violation Crocker pulled you over for?”