Page 27 of Dozer

Saliva pooled in my mouth. I swallowed, and my heart hurt as it slammed around in my chest. I gulped for a breath. What was I doing? Everything about me and Dozer felt right, except that it wasn’t.

He was fighting in the basement and fighting his feelings for me.

His hand covered mine. “I can do the rest.”

I stood, then bent over the tub to turn on the water and pulled the lever to start the shower. When I turned, Dozer flinched as he tried to shrug out of his cut.

By the etch of pain across his face, getting blown might be too much for him.

I dried my hands on a towel. When I rested my hands on his chest, he quivered beneath my fingertips. Soft cotton hid what my palms gently explored through his T-shirt—smooth, chiseled pectorals, ribbed lats, and corded abdominals.

My thumbs grazed the center of his chest, trekking the line of his sternum until I slid my hands under the leather of his cut and slipped it down his arms. I laid it on the vanity.

“I’m going to see you naked,” I said and smiled. I fingered the hem of his T-shirt and tugged. He winced as he lifted his arms.

I was in a freefall, tumbling in a mental cage. My wings had been clipped, but I still wanted to fly. I ached to touch him in ways that would fill me with guilt.

He drew in a sharp inhale as I pulled the snap on his jeans.

Dozer closed his eyes and swayed. The whir of his zipper lowering sent chills along my spine. Sliding my hands down his hips, I shoved his jeans and briefs to the floor.

I stared at his cock as it stretched toward me, beautifully built with veins roping the thick shaft. Clear fluids seeped from the wide, blunt head.

“You’re killing me, Pippa.” He held onto me as he stepped over the edge of the tub and beneath thehot spray. Before I could step back, he grasped me around the waist and pulled me into the shower with him.

Rivulets of bloody water cascaded down his torso as the shower rained over him. He held me as he tipped his bruised face to the spray.

Then his gaze met mine. Now soaked, my T-shirt clung to my hard and aching nipples. I wiped water from my eyes and pushed my hair back away from my face.

Fully dressed, I was exposed. Water made the thin cotton of my shirt transparent. The linen shorts plastered to my hips, revealing the pink scrap of lace masquerading as panties.

We stared at each other, the tension growing thick between us. He braced one hand on the wall for balance and the other roamed over his torso.

“Dozer?” I didn’t know how to read him. Was the hard line of his mouth was desire or anger? Muscles bunched and flexed as his gazed raked every inch of me.

“Touch yourself.”

“What?”

He leaned into me, his whiskey-laced breath making me want his kiss with the same dangerous want I had for his dick.

“Put your hands on your tits because I’m going to rub one out while you make yourself come.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. Inside, I trembled both from the words he spoke and the way he said them.

“Show me how you touch yourself when it’s just you, alone in your bed.”

Still wearing my soaked shirt, I slowly trailed my fingers over my belly. Tingles raced over my shivering flesh. I stepped beneath the spray and cupped my breasts, lifting them and gently pinching and rolling the puckered tips between my fingers and thumbs.

“Now harder, Pippa. I wouldn’t be gentle.”

I twisted my nipples, whimpering with the painful pleasure. He wanted to see me come apart. I slid my right hand into my panties and grazed my clit.

“If you’re not going to touch me, make me come with words, Dozer.”

He fisted his cock. “I want you afraid of falling,” he whispered. “But more afraid that if you don’t jump with me,” his breath was warm on my face, “I’ll shove you over the edge.”

I sucked in a breath as I neared that edge. Either way, I was trapped in this dark obsession of getting deeper inside each other. My eyes slid closed.

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