Page 106 of What Lies Within

“Morning.” I edge around him and reach for the mouthwash to temper my carpet tongue. “Sleep well?”

He chuckles, slowly pulling back until he's knelt with fists resting on his knees, facing me. "I did. Thanks.”

“So…” I gesture to him with the uncapped bottle. “What’s this for?”

“Habit.” He shrugs, glorious traps on beautiful display.

I draw a mouthful of alcohol and eyeball the fall of his hair across his brow, the carefree muss of those gorgeous fucking locks, and groan a little at the urge to fist it in my hands while I ride him as he is.Shit.The relief has arrived. Day one of my period and a respite from the madness.Awesome.

“You lookin’ at me like that for a reason?” He lifts an eyebrow, aware I can’t answer him with a mouthful of this stuff. “Because I can give you one if you ain’t.”

Damn.I gargle and spit the mouthwash out, wiping my lips afterward with the hand towel to the right. "I have reasons."

“They the same as mine?” He’s on his feet and closer to me than I realize when I straighten out.

“On my period, remember.”

“Don’t care.” He whispers the next word against my ear. “Remember?”

All I manage is a heavy exhale before Digger has me spun in his arms, hands to my waist as he hoists me onto the counter. I’m faced with a beautifully menacing man, eyes wild, and all for me.

My goddamn nipples hurt they’re so hard.

“Only boys get scared by a little blood.” He smirks, then his lips are on mine, devouring, hot, a definite promise.

I give in to my urges and thread my fingers through his hair, holding him to me as I tangle my tongue against his, relishing the same minty taste he finds on mine. Fists to the counter, he leans into me, forcing me backward until my shoulders hit the mirror, bottles toppling beneath me. One adjustment of his hands and my hips are jerked forward, my center slamming against his very obvious, very hard length.Holy fuck.

I need this. I need it so damn bad that evenIdon’t care anymore.

Digger breaks from our kiss, moving his mouth along my jaw and down my throat before uttering, “Tampon?”

I nod.

He growls, low in his throat. “It’s in my way.”

Hands to his shoulders, I urge him back far enough to read his face. The man is dead serious.

I slide off the counter and gesture for him to turn around. He does so with a sigh, erection tenting his boxer shorts, and folds his arms.

I dispose of the fucker, wipe twice to be sure, and freeze when Digger bends double to pull his boxers free of his legs.

Damn.I’ve seen him naked. I’ve seen him clothed. And I’ve seen him a mixture of both. And yet, I can’t decide which is my favorite. Digger's art, any way you look at it.

And he’s mine.

My heart skips a beat, tight in my chest, as I wipe again and flush.

Surely, this killed the mood.

The goddamn rod I’m presented with when he turns to face me says no. “Back how you were.” He jerks his head to the side, gesturing to the counter.

I hop my ass up there, somewhat awkwardly, and gasp when he jerks me right to the fucking edge. His thumb presses against my clit, circling, and he leans in to taste my jaw before uttering, “Better.”

All I can think about is the mess I’ll have to clean up after.

As though reading my mind, he slaps the back of his hand against my swollen mound and quips, “It’s all marble and tile, Rae. Relax.”

How he expects me to do that when he then feasts on my nipples, I have no idea. I suck in a sharp breath, gripping the back of his head, and close my eyes to the sensations. My core throbs, my goddamn pussy a needy bitch when she’s been so traumatized. Iacheto feel him there, despite what day of the month it is.

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