Page 51 of Catching His Runaway

As my tongue finds hers, our breathing tangles with soft pants as the heat of the kiss grows higher in temperature quickly.

Pressing her against the counter of the sink, I’m touching her shirt and plucking at the fabric. It’s the same shirt she wore the night before, but one I’ve stripped away from her already once.

Her hand finds my chest before I can peel it from her skin.

“First impressions are everything, and I don’t think they’d appreciate us doing this,” she softly murmurs against my jaw, holding onto the last trace of sense she possesses. She trembles when my fingers push underneath her shirt.

“They told us to clean up.” My mouth drifts to her neck, and I’ll lick where her pulse races. “That’s what we are doing.”

Arching against me, her flat palm curls around my shirt, and she grips it tightly. “Are we, though?”

Sighing against her skin, I find the strength to pull away from her. Turning toward a pristine looking clean shower, I twist at knobs and get the water going until steam is filling the air. Yanking at my shirt, I peel it off my shoulders and hear her gasp.

Not because she’s impressed with my physique, but because of the bruises on my sides. While I might have dodged some bullets, that didn’t stop me from getting hit.

“You’re hurt,” she points out, concern extinguishing the heat in her gaze.

I’m right back toward her before it can be doused completely. “I don’t even feel it.”

Maybe I will in a few hours, or even tomorrow. Right now, I’ve been running off one rush after another. With the knowledge that this woman loves me fueling me now, I am pulling off her shirt and growling at the back of my throat.

No bra. Someone took her from our home, and she didn’t even have a fucking bra on.

Her breath catches as my palm grazes one of her breasts. Her tightening nipple grazes between my fingers as I give her body a squeeze. “Did he touch you?”

Her breath shakes, and she bites her lip as she thinks about how she’ll answer me. Unless the answer is no, I would dread whatever words come from her lips.

“He kissed me. Or, tried to, anyway. I tried to bite his tongue off.” Instead of lying to me to save my feelings, she mutters the truth. It doesn’t feel like she holds back any information, so I am somewhat relieved.

The rest of me is furious.

“Whatever it takes, I won’t allow another man to touch you.” Adding another promise to my list, I reach up to run my thumb against her bottom lip. “This mouth is mine.”

Agreeing to my statement with a satisfied hum, she pulls me down to her mouth once more. Slowly, we undress each other as more steam floods into the room. Once nothing is left on us, I carry her to the shower.

Lazaro has one of those nice walk-in ones with glass walls. As easy as it would be to watch Valeria wash her body, I want to be the one to do it.

I want to scrub the blood from her body and her hair. I want to be the one to wash away today and make it impossible for her to think about it ever again.

She lets me do just that, sighing when my hands find certain places. I try to keep my thoughts clear, but everything in my head is as hazy as the room itself.

“I can wash that,” she pants as my hand spreads the suds toward her pussy. Once I’m cupping the curls, her eyes are fluttering close.

“Let me,” I rumble as my fingers part her folds. She’s radiating with heat, lighting up from how many times I’ve made contact with her skin.

Hardly putting up a fight, she moves her hand to her mouth to silence the start of a moan. Her other hand slides to my wrist, gripping it tightly as my fingers find her clit.

Listening to Valeria is addictive. Watching her unravel only adds to my hunger for her.

If my cock wasn’t hard already, it is now. Hard as steel, it brushes up against her thigh as I coax out more muffled moans with my fingers.

As much as I would love to lift her leg and slide right in, now isn’t the place. I want her on my bed where she can be as loud as she wants to be without worrying about anyone listening in.

Once I get her breathlessly panting my name and clamping her thighs shut, I pull away and satisfy myself the best I can by licking my fingers.

“The soap–”

“All I can taste is your delicious pussy,” I promise her, showing the way her juices cling to my fingers.

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