Don't Kiss the Bride

“Seeing you wet is so fucking sexy,” he breathes, gliding his finger slowly over the damp silk clinging to my parted lips. Tugging the fabric aside, he drags his lips down tantalizingly slow. His tongue finds me wet, open and waiting, and he plunges it inside, eliciting a cry of pleasure from my throat.

Without leaving the haven of my thighs, he reaches behind him and turns off the flowing water. I let out a sharp gasp when he moves his lips away and palms my hips, pulling me down until I’m flush against the hard bulge of him beneath his jeans with my breasts pressed against the stubble of his face.

There’s no doubt in my mind he’s finally feeling better.

I grip his wide shoulders for balance and grind myself over his hard cock, notching his length between the channel of my wetness. His fingers bite into my ass, coaxing me.

“God, you feel good,” I murmur, closing my eyes and slowly riding him, embracing the inhibition he awakens in me.

“Get your sweet ass in that tub.”

I lift my head to face him. “Are you coming with me?”

Mischief sparks in his eyes. “Fuck, yeah.”

I swing my leg over him and push my panties down to the floor, then pause, captivated by the flex of his thick biceps and the ridges of his abs as he undresses. The sight of his pipe-hard cock extending from the apex of his muscular thighs quickens my pulse.

He’s so sinfully beautiful. I could crumble and weep right here on the tile, knowing I will never touch him this way again, never feel his breath on my lips, never feel his body melt into mine.

Swallowing hard, I wet my lips. I can’t think of what will never be. All I have is now, and I want to savor it.

I avert my eyes to the steam rising from the tub and dip my hand into the water. “It’s still warm.”

“It’ll stay warm. The tub is heated.”

I smile with surprise, not knowing such a thing existed. “Very cool,” I say. “Do you have bubbles?”

He smirks. “Do I look like I have bubbles?”

I grab a bottle of shampoo from his shower. He watches with amusement as I turn the faucet back on and pour the shampoo into the water flow. Within seconds, bubbles cover the surface.

“You get in first,” I say, and when he carefully lowers his powerhouse of a body into the water, my heart swoons and flutters all over again. The man looks simply delicious—all muscle and ink surrounded by glistening bubbles.

I kneel next to the tub and lean over the edge, feeling like a curious kitten.

He licks his lips, and a slow, devious smirk spreads across his face. It’s obvious he loves the effect he has on me.

“I wish I could take your picture like this,” I say. “You look so. Fucking. Hot.”

“No pictures,” he says. “You want to see me like this? Take my clothes off.”

Laughing, I climb into the large tub, and the hot water sloshes as I settle between his legs. He snakes his arm around me, pulling me flush against his chest. I like that wants me close—keeping his arm around me, pressed against my bare breasts, with his hand cupping my shoulder. The water is warm, just shy of being too hot, but is incredibly soothing. I tip my head up to watch the snow falling on the skylight, feeling a bit of sorrow as each perfect little snowflake melts the very moment it lands on the heated glass.

How sad to fall so far, only to disappear as soon as the destination is reached.

“This is so beautiful and relaxing,” I say softly, almost afraid to break such perfect quiet. “I would be in here every night.”

He nuzzles his face into the side of my neck, beneath my ear. “You can come in here any time you want,” he whispers in a deep, seductive tone that makes my entire body quiver.

I lean into his soft touch. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that.”

Resting my hands on his thighs under the soapy water, I close my eyes and breathe in the steam wafting up around us. Behind me, Jude leans his cheek against the top of my head, and everything just feels right.

Calm.

Safe.

Content.

These are feelings I’ve been chasing for what seems like my entire young life. I thought the only way to feel those things was to be alone, but I was wrong.

I didn’t plan this sensual, romantic interlude tonight. For the past week I’ve been keeping things platonic between us because I thought it was the right thing to do. I’ve stayed focused solely on taking care of him, work, and my therapy. I’ve had to force myself to not touch him unless it was to help him when he was sore. I’ve resisted thinking about him or sending him cute text messages.