Wish

Still, at the end of the day, what does any of that matter? The man standing right here is who he is. The question he’s asking is if that’s good enough.

I turn my gaze back to those cool blue eyes. There’s an unbendable determination in them, but there’s kindness, too. This guy is a hot sexy mess. And fucking hell, if I don’t want him anyway.

I tilt my head to one side. “I think I could live with an as-is arrangement, especially one that’s mutual.” I’m nowhere near perfect.

“It’s definitely mutual.” Marus reaches out and brushes his thumb across my cheekbone, leaving a trail of heat across my skin. I love his touch. I crave it. Like I crave him.

“Are you going to feed me or take me to bed now?” I ask.

“How about both?”

Oh, dear God. Please tell me he means food sex. With fruit and chocolate and maybe some Cool Whip?

I swallow hard. “That’s a firm yes for me.”

He flashes a lopsided, devilish little grin. “Would you mind if we showered together first? It’s been a long day, and I don’t think the salt goes with your strawberries.”

This is turning out to be my ultimate erotic wish. Shower. Fruit. Sex. How the hell did he know?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Marus leaves me alone to undress in the bathroom while he “takes care of a few touches” in the bedroom. I can’t wait to see. My heart is racing and my hands are shaking. I want this relationship. I want him. And it’s all about to happen.

His bathroom is huge but mirrors the rest of his penthouse with light gray stone tile, including in the shower stall, and very little in the way of personal items. I’m not surprised.

With a towel around my torso, I turn on the hot water and let it steam from the two separate heads. I’m already aching to have him inside me, but my mind can’t stop swimming either. If I give myself to him, I have to be all in. I have to be sure I really meant what I said. As is. That means I can’t pick him apart or question him about his past. I have to let go of all that and accept this version of him.

I want to. I do. I want to give myself to him because he’s insane and brilliant and sexy and determined. That has to be enough. Even if everything inside me will kick and scream against it every single day. It’s in my nature to try to fix things, and I want him to be happy and whole.

But what if this is his way of doing that? Bottom line, I have to trust him. It’s what he’s asked of me. Those are the terms.

I let go of the towel and step under the soothing jets, letting the heat of the water run down my face and chest.

“You got started without me.” I feel Marus’s hard, naked chest press to my back.

“I really love this showerhead, but the service here is phenomenal.”

He places a kiss on the side of my neck. “Then let’s get you washed.” He takes a bar of soap from the dish tiled into the wall and begins soaping up my back.

“Your hands feel amazing,” I mutter. They’re strong and firm and slightly rough.

He grabs a washcloth from just outside the open stall and wets it. He doesn’t try to kiss me or do anything other than slowly scrub. This has always been one of my fantasies, to feel worshipped. He washes my hair, scrubs under my arms, and even attends to my bellybutton, which tickles.

When he’s done, there’s only one spot that remains untouched.

I wait and give him a look, flashing glances downward. “Hey, the kitty ain’t gonna lick itself.”

He raises a brow suggestively. “I’d actually pay to see that.”

“I bet you would.”

His smile melts away, and he slides the wet clean washcloth between my legs, moving it gently. I close my eyes and brace myself on his strong arms. It feels incredible, but when he lets go of the cloth, it’s even better.

He slides his fingers inside and kisses me hard, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. I focus on the pleasure and clench around it. The ache inside is too delicious, too powerful not to try to hold on for the ride.

He backs me against the wall and removes his hand, pressing his thick, hard erection to my stomach. His tongue slides between my teeth to deliver a feverish kiss while I wrap my arms around his neck and grind against him, lifting one leg and bending it around his thigh.

“I need you,” I whisper.

“But I’m not clean yet.”

I reach for the soap and then quickly rub it all over him. Face, armpits, neck, very hard, thick penis—so beautiful. I use my hands to kind of sort of rinse it off. “There you go. All clean!”