Page 32 of King of Guilt

“Of course, I meant it.” I held the showerhead close to my chest, clutching it with both hands as if I would drown without it.

“Emma, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to feel anything.”

“I… I’m sorry—”

“I don’t want an apology.”

For a moment, I remained quiet, swallowing hard as I wished I could pull him in and hold him tight. “What do you want, then?”

It wasn’t long before my wish came true. Wordlessly, Dean finally shifted from behind the glass, revealing his fit physique as he stepped into the shower with me. And before either one of us even thought of words to say, Dean yanked the shower head out of my hand, tossed it to the wet floor, and buried his head between my breasts. His arms encircled me as tightly as he knew I could have tolerated, and mine couldn’t but do the same.

“I couldn’t let you shower alone,” Dean murmured, his mouth hot and searing against my flushed skin.

I linked my fingers over his neck and threw my head back, bringing it to a rest against the cold, wet tiles. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.” Dean breathed, sending a ripple of goosebumps across my skin. “We need to finish what we started.”

A lump rose in the back of my throat, but I didn’t say anything.

Slowly, Dean drew back and looked directly at me, his deep brown eyes sending a shock right through me. He took my hand in his and lifted it up to his mouth, kissing each individual knuckle. Then he spun me around, placed my hand on either side of the wide, tempered glass and began tracing his lips down my neck.

A thin mist enveloped our bodies.

The butterflies in my stomach erupted when he rubbed his hands up and down my arms with a bar of soap. He moved slowly, gently, as if we had all the time in the world, lathering up soap as he did. His fingers moved over every inch of skin until it felt like I was going to burst from the inside out.

Still, he didn’t stop.

Instead, he spun me around, kicked my legs open and knelt down. His smooth black hair was matted to his forehead as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of my thighs. Suddenly, he stopped at my center and looked up at me.

And I had never wanted anything more.

One hand plunged into his silky, soft strands, and the other curled into a fist at my side. Dean dug his nails into my waist and kissed my pulsing core, sending shivers of desire racing up and down my spine. As soon as his tongue darted out, in slow, sweeping strokes, I squeezed my eyes shut and cried out.

“Oh, yes. Oh, Dean.”

He moaned in response, and I felt his lips widen into a smile, as his tongue continued its tantalizing assault. My hips thrust against him, and a thin sheen of sweat broke out across my forehead. Overhead, hot water continued to cascade down his back.

Abruptly, the tightness in my chest unfurled, and I was falling. Spots danced in and out of my field of vision. When I caught my breath, I pushed my blonde hair out of my eyes and glanced down at him.

He was licking his plump, soft lips, hunger written in the depth of his eyes. Then he rose to his feet and kissed me again, harder this time. I touched a finger to the dimple on his chin and sighed, my resistance melting away. Being with Dean was different—better.

I never wanted it to end.

And I wanted his hands and mouth everywhere.

The thought both surprised and terrified me.

He wrenched his lips away and began to pepper my neck with kisses, his fingers moving up and down the length of my body, stopping at my breasts. Dean tweaked one nipple then the other until they were both as hard as pebbles. Suddenly, his hand moved to my back and squeezed.

When he hoisted me up, I linked my feet over his waist, and my stomach dipped. He lifted my hands up over my head and kissed a path up from my breasts and back to my lips. Then he moved to my lobes, tugging on one then the other.

I whimpered and ground against him.

With a growl, Dean positioned himself at my entrance and waited. In one quick stroke, he was inside of me. I gasped and went still, adjusting to the feel of him inside of me. As soon as my muscles relaxed, we began to move together, taking and giving in equal pleasure. He shifted, so his feet were spread hip width apart and dug his nails into my waist.

But he was still delicate, careful, like he feared I’d break at any second.

I raked my fingers over his back and used my other hand to trace the muscles of his shoulders, down the length of his back and stopped at his behind. When I gave it a tight pinch, Dean bit back a laugh and buried his face in the crook of my neck.

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