Page 73 of Hell and High Water

A tap on the door frame.

“Hmm?”

“Just wanted to apologize, by the way.” Gavin's gravelly voice echoes in the small room, echoes through my core, sending shivers down my legs.

“For?”

“Biting your head off when I got here. I’m a little high-strung lately.”

“I understand why you did.”

And boy, do I. If he only knew the fact that we really might be in danger.

There's no way around this. I'm going to have to tell them.

But right as I open my mouth to do so, I see Gavin peering around the curtain in the mirror, staring at me.

That dark, stormy stare makes me suck in a breath, my body filling with heat that has nothing to do with the hot water. I pull the curtain back, letting him see more, biting my lip and slipping a hand over my nipple, my breast, down my belly, into my soaked slit.

Gavin’s chest heaves in response, his eyes going wide..

“See anything you like?”

His jaw works a few times like he forgot how to talk.

“I see everything that I want.”

“What are you waiting for?” One finger hooks toward him, beckoning him to join me.

He’s out of his jeans and T-shirt in a blink of an eye, stepping into the tub smoothly, his arms immediately circling my hips, drawing me toward him.

Skin prickling wetness cascades between us, all around us, making every movement slippery and sensual. Especially as he hardens, his enormous width and length spreading my inner thighs apart, making space for me to stay pressed with my back against him.

His lips find the cup of my ear, the rim, nipping down, down, to my neck.

That low growl that drives me wild rumbles into the crook of my neck, making me arch my back, thrusting my hips back on him.

“I love it when you do that…”

“Do what?” he rumbles again, making me rise up onto my toes. “You're the one who gets me instantly fucking hard.”

This growl is lower, more intense. And it makes me fucking shake.

Soapy slickness makes his grinding between my legs and ass cheeks utterly stimulating, setting my heart to pounding.

His huge hands stroke down my shoulders, my arms, finding my hands, our fingers intertwining. It’s a tradition, a routine we always do when we make love, linking our hands and staying close right at first.

I love how his presence makes me feel.

He’s a mountain.

Steadfast and unshakable.

It’s a sweet little pause, a repose that I lose myself in, right before I let him do whatever he wants to me, whatever I want to do to him.

Anticipation always makes me want to rush, to frantically be on him, near him, have him in me…

I’ve learned, especially in the last few days with Tell, to slow it down. To draw it out.

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