His lips curl into a slow grin against my fingertips, his eyes darkening into molten pools of heat and hunger. Before I can brace for it, he scoops me off the bed and into his arms. A soft gasp escapes me as I cling to his strong shoulders, my heart fluttering.
“Why don’t we take a shower first?” He drawls, his voice thick and low, teasing. “You’ve been unconscious for days… and I’ve been glued to your side. Pretty sure we both need one.”
I laugh, leaning my head against his chest. “So I stink?”
“No,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, “but you smell too damn good for someone who hasn’t showered in six days. It’s distracting.”
He carries me straight into the bathroom and kicks the door shut behind him before finally setting me down on my feet. The tiles are cool beneath my toes, but Jack’s steady warmth behind me keeps the chill at bay.
“Here,” he says softly, his fingers brushing my arm. “Let me help you.”
I give a quiet nod, lowering my arms to my sides.
His fingers find the hem of my shirt, and he lifts it slowly, reverently, tugging it over my head and leaving me bare before him. His gaze roams over me, a raw hunger flickering in his eyes—but he holds himself back, jaw tight with restraint.
Without a word, he sinks to his knees. He eases my pants down, inch by inch, his fingers grazing my skin in feather–light strokes that leave a trail of fire. Then he slides my panties down with the same careful, deliberate touch, as if memorizing the
feel of every inch of me.
When he rises again, towering over me, his breathing is uneven, chest rising and falling a little faster. His hands twitch at his sides, fighting the urge to touch.
I want him to touch me.
“Jack…” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart. His eyes lock on mine, and the fire there steals my
breath.
And then he strips. His shirt comes off, his pants next, and before I can catch my breath, he lifts me again and steps into the shower, the warmth of him pressed against me.
The water flows gently from above, steaming around us, fogging up the glass.
Jack stands behind me and starts to lather shampoo into my hair, his fingers threading through my strands, massaging my scalp with slow, delicious pressure. A moan slips from my lips, and he chuckles softly, nuzzling his face into the crook of my
neck.
“God, I missed that sound,” he murmurs.
The suds run down my back as he rinses, his hands trailing gently down my shoulders, then my spine, then lower. He picks up the lavender–scented soap and rubs it between his palms before smoothing it over my skin. Over my arms. My stomach. My hips.
His fingers linger longer when they slide over my breasts, and I lean back into him, breath hitching.
“Still sure you’re feeling okay?” he murmurs into my ear.
“Getting better by the second,” I reply, breathless.
When he finishes, I slowly turn to face him, my hands finding the bottle of shampoo. “My turn.”
I lather it into his dark hair, my fingers massaging gently, and he lets out a groan–low, deep- that makes my toes curl.
You’re going to kill me,” he mutters under his breath.
“Not yet,” I tease, rinsing his hair. “We haven’t even finished bonding.”
C
His eyes lock with mine, full of unspoken promises and burning tensity. I pick up the same lavender–scented soap and begin to glide it over his chest, down the hard planes of his torso, over l arms, around his back.
And then… I pause, biting back a laugh.
Because there he is.
Long, awake, and definitely paying attention.
“I see someone’s wide awake,” I say innocently.
He smirks. “He missed you too.”
The heat between us thickens, swirling with the steam around us. But we don’t speak–not really. We don’t need to. Not with the way our bodies speak for us.
His hand finds my cheek, cupping it gently. His thumb brushes soft, soothing circles over my skin as he leans closer, his breath warm against my lips.
“I’ve never been more afraid in my life than when I saw you lying there… unconscious for so long,” he breathes against my lips, resting his forehead against mine.
“I’m here now, Jack… with you. And I’m never leaving.”
As soon as those words leave my mouth, his lips crash down on mine in a bruising kiss that steals the breath from my lungs.
His mouth moves against mine–hot, fast, and desperate–like he’s been starving for me, like waiting even another second would kill him. I melt into him, kissing him back with everything I have, loving the feeling of him consuming me.
I’m delirious with pleasure as his hands roam my slick, wet skin. He cups my ass, squeezing gently, and I gasp softly into his mouth–he swallows the sound hungrily, his tongue dominating mine with urgency. Goddess, I want this man.
