Page 41 of Forbidden Need

He didn’t need to shower with her, but she was honored he did. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and joined her.

She couldn’t help herself and was caressing his chest with eager fingertips when he reached for the shampoo.

“I’m sorry about tonight.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” he said, turning her back to him.

“Why did they suspect you? Did they tell you?”

“They have a witness.”

“A mistaken witness,” she said, tipping her head back as he worked her hair into a lather. “An enemy of yours?”

“Or someone covering for their crime.”

“Whoever it was couldn’t have known you had an alibi.”

“The circle of people who knew about us was small.”

And that circle was getting bigger by the moment. “How are we going to handle this?”

“This?”

“People knowing about us.”

With a grip on her arms, he spun her around to meet her eye. Driving a hand up the back of her neck into her wet hair, he gripped it tight, painfully tight, right against her scalp. When she winced, he strengthened his fist until her lips parted.

“You belong to me now, Macushla,” he growled, swooping down to bite her lower lip. “You’re all mine.”

“Do rún,” she gasped.

“Not anymore.”

The water ran over her forehead into her eyes and down over the knot of his hold. Closing her eyes to the cascade, she barely caught a breath before his tongue rammed into her mouth. Possession had never been like this. He wasn’t just holding her, restraining her, he was putting all of himself into her. Not his physical self, the essence of his soul. The dark and dangerous corners he’d hidden from her were plunged into the light.

The danger. The terror. Others felt it. He expected it. And he was showing it to her. Trusting her with it.

Tangled up in pain and grief, she let him kiss her, let him push and pull and tug and tow any way he wanted. Her body was limp, pulled low, putting agonizing pressure on her back, but the pain was nothing to the acceptance of his pledge.

Somehow, her fingers found his cock and curled around it, squeezing him tight, trying to deliver him the guarantee his kiss gave her. His kiss came with a deep inhale, and one hand yanked while the other took her jaw, squeezing it from both sides, deepening his kiss.

She was helpless, powerless in his grasp. Every part of her except the hand she kept around him, constricting it as she stroked and jerked, pleasing him like he’d please himself in her pussy. That was where she wanted him, inside her. Yet the kiss, the desperate bonding, was so devouring, she never wanted it to end.

When he tore his mouth away, he dug his teeth into her jaw, stabbing himself deeper into her fist. Though she tried to bend her knees, he held her in place.

“I want to swallow for you,” she panted, speeding her caress. “Please, do rún.”

On a growl, he ducked to sweep up one of her legs, planting her foot on the seat as he charged in his crouch, plunging his cock into her. She gasped, grabbing for his shoulders, his frantic motion propelled her from tiptoes into his full control. He hooked a forearm under her thigh, pulling it higher, compelling her to grab for the wall and the top of the stall, seeking balance.

“Macushla,” he snarled through gritted teeth, thrusting himself into her one final climactic time, pinning her pelvis to the wall with his.

With her lips closed, she mirrored the deep huff of his nasal breaths. The shower spray cascaded through his hair, running down through her fingers again on his shoulders, splashing in every direction.

She didn’t often get to look him straight in the eye, closer to his level, like she was in the support of his arms. He didn’t pull out, didn’t back off, just let his heart beat against her body.

It wasn’t gratitude. Or if it was, it wasn’t like any version she’d seen. But there was something there, in the way he assessed her, a scrutiny that sought something in her.

“Baby,” she whispered, sweeping her palm from his cheek to his hair, combing her fingers through its dampness.

---