Her breasts were just as perfect as I remembered. I’d done my best to keep my damned hands off her for the past two weeks, to keep away the memory of the feel of her on my fingers and the taste of her on my tongue. For having the reputation of the very devil, I’d been a fucking saint when it came to my wife.
My wife. Even thinking that term had my cock rising. She was mine to protect. Mine to care for. Mine to adore. At least for now.
She tucked her thumbs into the sides of her thong, and my breath stilled. Our eyes locked, and she bit her lower lip with indecision. I sighed with relief when she left the little scrap of fabric in place. I was already on edge, fraying by the minute, and the last thing I needed was the delectable temptation of Persephone—
Wait. What the fuck was she doing?
She walked into the shower, keeping her eyes on mine, craning her neck when only inches separated our bodies. A single jet reached her skin, and she jolted, sucking in a breath with a slight yelp.
My hand flew to the knob on my right, and I dialed it back so the water wouldn’t burn her. Never her.
Her brow scrunched momentarily, and she swallowed, then she reached for the dark blue loofah she’d bought me when she moved in. It hung, untouched, next to the frequently used pink one that she favored.
I tensed as she put shower gel on the scratchy nylon then raised it to my chest. She paused before she made contact and looked up at me for permission.
That act alone made me give it to her with a curt nod.
She washed my chest gently, then ran the loofah down both of my arms before turning it on my stomach. Her lips parted, and her breath quickened as she watched her own motions, tracing the lines of my abs. She was so fucking sexy. A heady mixture of sensuality and innocence that pushed my control to the very limit of existence.
She hesitated when she drifted lower, and her eyes flew impossibly wide when she accidentally brushed over the head of my cock with her wrist.
I groaned, clenching my hands into fists to keep them off her.
Her cheeks flushed pink, and her gaze flew up, enough heat in those baby blues to tell me she hadn’t been afraid of what she’d seen there. Her lips trembled slightly, that motion telling me she was aware that she’d bitten off a little more than she was ready to chew.
I cocked an eyebrow at her, then turned around, giving her my back.
She washed the expanse of my back, and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to arch back into her touch. Fuck, I wanted her. The need I felt for her was more than these months of abstinence, and more than the temptation of a fantasy that had come to life. It was so much deeper than that. My very soul wanted this woman, not just physically, but in every way possible.
I ached for her.
She lingered over a scar that was hidden in the pin of a grenade along my shoulder blade.
“Belt buckle.” The words echoed off the stone, and I braced my hands on the wall in front of me.
She simply stroked over that scar again, then moved to one on the left of my spine, disguised in the scales of a sugar-skulled mermaid.
“Edge of a table.”
She washed that spot gently, then continued her trek, soaping down my spine, over my ass, and down my thighs and calves. When she stood and reached the loofah around to my chest, I turned and stepped through the spray so it ran down my back.
Drops of water clung to her skin in a way I longed to, lingering before giving in to gravity and racing down the curves of her body. Fuck, I had to get out of here—had to get away before—
She ran her fingertips over the small, circular scar on my right pec, hidden in the inked ribs that led to the hands and heart in the center of my chest. Her eyes met mine in question.
“Cigarette,” I answered simply.
Her eyes squeezed shut as she drew a ragged breath.
I took her hand in mine as the loofah hit the floor, then pressed her fingertips to the half dozen others that raised the skin around the same spot.
Her lips pursed tight, but she followed each and every burn scar. Then she pressed her mouth to the centermost one and erased some of the pain in that memory with a simple kiss. My heart slammed so hard that I knew she had to be able to hear it as she kissed each scar in that region.
Her fingers quested over my rib cage on the opposite side, finding the raised, puckered flesh that formed a tight spiral.