Page 11 of Hell and High Water

“Damn… you make me nuts, Lena…”

“Mmm, too bad I’m in no condition…” I feel him through the rough fabric of his jeans, straining the zipper. With a flick of my fingers, the top button pops, the fly opening from the pressure. I guide his pants down, dragging his boxer briefs with them, letting him slip over the band, every throbbing inch of him standing to attention for me.

“Get in the tub, smart ass. I can at least enjoy the show.”

I comply, dipping my feet into the steaming tub, lowering myself with a light hiss. The water is perfect, soothing my aching muscles and joints as I sit.

“Speaking of conditions…” The steam and hot water make me flush, seeing the way Gavin watches me, worships me with his eyes. He steps out of his clothes, kneeling beside the tub.

Grabbing a washcloth, he starts low, soaping up my feet, up my legs. It’s torturous, having the cloth between his hand and my skin, and the slow pace he takes, dragging it out, makes me squirm.

I want to reach out and grab him, touch him. But he presses me back, and I let him, leaning on the back of the tub. He works the rag along my arms, up my shoulders, careful to avoid my injury and my midsection above the water.

“That feels amazing.”

“Sit up so I can wash your back.”

“Hmm, not going to work. I’m going to need you to get in and help me with the rest…”

Gavin bites the tip of his tongue at me, narrowing his eyes. “You’re too fucking tempting.”

“Are you resisting me?”

“Like I could.” He slips in behind me, the water rising slightly. Carefully, he unbinds my bandages and checks the wound.

It doesn't look as bad I expected.

“Clean shot. You were lucky.”

“Somehow, I wonder… we still don’t know who did it?” I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I forgot to ask.

“No clue,” he mutters, and I feel him shrug behind me.

Cautiously, he starts scrubbing me again, first my back, then my front. I rest back against his scalding hot abs, feeling the tense, flat plain of them offset by the rigid pillar of his cock pressing into my lower back.

I almost giggle as I shift and feel him flex, a tiny grunt escaping his lips.

As if to retaliate, he scrubs the hot washcloth down my belly, veering into my inner thighs at the last minute. My back arches unintentionally, and he chuckles.

My hand drifts through the hot water, sneaking around behind me. I have a hold of him before he can react, gently gripping his shaft.

“Fuck…”

“I’d love to…” I moan, stroking down and running my palm lower, over his balls.

“You sure?”

“Are you really asking me that right now?” My voice is a hoarse whisper. His hand slides down without any more coaxing, two fingers softly pinching my clit before spreading me open, caressing my entrance.

We play for minutes, teasing and barely touching. His lips find my neck, my earlobe, my clavicle, licking and sucking my steam-drenched skin.

“I need more. Now,” I breathe back into his ear as I rest my head against his shoulder, nipping at his jaw.

“Your wish is my command.”

But we both realize that’s not going to happen in this bathtub. I stand with a little assistance, waiting for him to pull himself up before pressing into him, dragging his face down to lick his lips.

His tongue lashes out, drawing me in, dancing passionately for several seconds, our hands trailing through the trickling water pebbling our skin in the cool air outside the tub.

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