Page 80 of Brick

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

Liv

Liv woke up Saturday morning in the pale light of dawn with a blazing heat against her back and an iron band around her waist. For a moment, she froze. Then Jonathan’s breath fanned in her ear. She recognized the crisp hair of his leg rubbing against hers, and his stone-hard arousal nestled against her ass.

She wiggled her backside, and he groaned.

“You’re teasing me on purpose.”

Laughing, she rolled over to see him. His face looked worse than it had been the night before. Bruises had time to fully bloom on his skin, and none of the swelling had gone down. She should have made him hold the ice on it longer. Biting her lip, she held her fingers over his cheek, but didn’t touch. “Does it hurt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be a badass every single second.”

Pulling himself to a sitting position, he revealed the pillowcase he’d slept on was now dotted with dried blood. “I’m sore, but I’m feeling better than I did last night.”

She ran her fingertips over his swollen face, but he didn’t flinch. “You ready to give the shower a try?” She slid out of the bed and walked around to his side. “Put your arm around my shoulder. We’ll do it together.”

Gritting his teeth, he did as she asked. Carefully, they moved into the small bathroom. Even a fraction of his weight on her shoulders felt like carrying a boulder.

He leaned against the door frame as she turned on the spray.

“Can I, um, help you with your shorts?” She gestured vaguely at the only clothes he had on his body.

He guarded his expression as he nodded, and averting her eyes, she gently eased them down. “You’re killing me, Livie,” he moaned.

Blushing hotly, she stood and forced her gaze to stay on his face. “Let me help you in.”

He didn’t move. “You’re keeping your clothes on?” He scowled. “Every time I’ve ever thought about showering with you, both of us were naked.”

She chuckled at the trace of whine in his voice. “Hush.” She wrapped her arm behind his back and pulled him toward the bathtub where the shower ran. He allowed her to help him inside and groaned when he stepped under the spray.

Even though she was in the shower with him, Liv stayed mostly dry. Jonathan’s big body blocked the water. She grabbed the soap and got to work, gently massaging the Dove bar into suds on his back, shoulders, and arms. His muscles slowly relaxed under her fingers.

“Turn around,” she whispered. Hard as she tried to prepare herself for the full-frontal view, she couldn’t help but suck in a breath when he faced her. She fought to keep her attention firmly above his waist. Remnants of the soap rinsing from his neck and back slid over his defined pecs and tangled in his chest hair.

She stepped closer, and his eyes flared as she began to lather his chest. Her hands slid over his nipples and up to his collarbone. The last time she’d seen him without a shirt stayed burned into her memory, and seeing him this way, without even the sweatpants he’d worn before, threatened to stop her heart. The man’s body was perfectly made. His shoulders were broad. His chest and torso sculpted like a statue.

Despite her resolve, her gaze slid down, and her soapy hand followed.

He had a trim waist, and a narrow line of hair dipped down, leading the way to what was now a thick, proud erection.

He shuddered as she took him in her hand. The skin of his cock was hot and smooth. The soap on her hands made the glide effortless, and she began to pump him.

He swayed on his feet and closed his eyes. “Livie,” he groaned, but he didn’t protest. Instead, he leaned his shoulder against the wall and let her have her way with his body.

God, she wanted to fuck him. With every encounter, the need to feel him inside her grew. It reached a fever pitch now, feeling the weight of him in her hand, knowing how he’d fill the aching void between her legs.

He’d recovered some since the night before, but he was still hurt. He couldn’t touch her; he could barely even move his hands.

His pleasure would be her pleasure.

She tightened her hand and pumped harder. Faster.

Her own arousal was getting harder to ignore. She squeezed her thighs together involuntarily. Much more of this and she’d have to use her other hand on herself.

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