Page 36 of The Forbidden Trio

His cock was growing harder as he made his way up the stairs, one hand on the rising bulge in his jeans.

Ah, Janie…

He moved through the living room, with its free-standing stone fireplace and the enormous window overlooking Hollywood. Down the hallway and through the master bedroom until he reached the bathroom.

Kicking his way out of his big black boots and his jeans, he tossed them over the edge of the round bathtub that stood in the center of the bathroom under a skylight. This room was a hedonist’s delight, but all he cared about right now was getting naked into the shower with his girl on his mind.

He stepped into the enormous pale slate and glass enclosure, which was fully equipped with multiple showerheads and body sprayers. He turned on the tap, leaving the water a little cool. Stepping under the spray, he grabbed the bar of sandalwood-scented soap and lathered up his chest, making himself wait before touching his hardening cock.

Janie on her back, her hands clenching the sheets while he dripped hot wax onto her gorgeous breasts, her pink nipples darkening, hardening…Oh, yeah.

She loved the wax. Loved a little pain. Loved being taken over. All he had to do was press on the back of her neck and she responded immediately. Usually so in control of things, she went right down when they were in those roles. So fucking sexy.

Janie’s eyes going glassy with desire and submission as he buried his hand in her hair andpulled.

Finally, he lowered his hand and began to soap his rock-hard cock.

“Oh, fucking yeah!”

He leaned against the wall of the shower as pleasure poured through his system like liquid heat.

Setting the soap back in the alcove, he began a gentle, even stroke, teasing himself. Up and down, nice and slow.

Janie loved to give him head that way—teasing him, drawing her mouth from stem to head, pausing there, letting his pleasure hang, waiting. Sometimes he couldn’t stand it, couldn’t wait, and he’d pull his cock from her mouth, grab her and push her down on the bed or the floor or the table—wherever they happened to be—and justtakeher. She’d get so damn excited her pussy would be soaking wet, tight and fine and grasping his plunging cock.

“Ah…”

He stroked harder, his hand sliding up and down his shaft, avoiding the head so he wouldn’t come too fast.

Janie.

She was his ultimate fantasy girl. So. Fucking. Perfect.

Pleasure coiled tight in his belly as he arched into his fisted hand, his climax hovering. Had to be inside her again. Toknowher that way.

To know her again.

He had to get her back.Hadto.

Something in his chest twisted, and he let his cock go.

Damn it.

He didn’t want to stop, but he didn’t want to come—he couldn’t. Not without her in his arms. This was forherand he wouldn’t waste it in his own hands. He had more control over his desires than that. These last years of sobriety had proven it. If they were ever going to get back to the intense levels of intimacy that came with the power play they’d both once loved so much, if she was ever going to trust him that much again, then he was going to have to prove it to himself. So he could prove it to her.

He let the cool water run over his head, then shook it hard, shook the water out of his eyes as he bit his orgasm back. A few minutes of Tantric breathing calmed him down enough to breathe normally again, and he picked up the shampoo bottle.

This wasn’t going to get him anywhere, rubbing one off in the shower over Janie. He had to stay focused. Because she was it, the only one for him. And he damn wellwouldget her back. It was time.

Chapter Three

Janie looked at the mess on her bed that was the pile of clothes she’d tried on and then cast off in her search for the right outfit to wear to dinner. She felt like a teenager.

She’d barely been more than that the last time she’d been with Cole—really been with him. Twenty-one years old when they’d split. But oh, that last time together…even with him being half-buzzed on who knew what, even with her anger and resentment, his touch had been electric.

Shivering, she ran her hands over her bare stomach, up over the sheer pink lace of her bra. Her nipples came up hard, tight and aching.

“This is only dinner. Nothing more than talking,” she said to the empty room. She sighed out a long breath, burying her fingers in her hair. “Itis, damn it.”

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