Page 69 of The Forbidden Note

“Here,” I say.

Brown fingers with white nail polish tangle in the towel, but they go lax when she hears my voice.

“M-mom?”

I pause. Let the moment stretch out.

I can feel the tension building.

I can practically hear her thoughts.

I must be dreaming. It isn’t him. Zane isn’t in the bathroom with me.

My lips curl up cruelly. “It’s me.”

Grace screams and releases the towel, arms windmilling backward.

Through the frosted glass, I see her lose her balance.

My eyes widen. Tossing the towel, I move on instinct. I step into the shower and grab her by the waist. My hand makes a slapping sound as it collides with her soft, wet skin.

Grace grabs my shoulders, hoisting her body against mine in a frantic effort to keep upright. One limp curl sticks against her puffing cheeks. Her chest pierces my T-shirt, ramming into my abs like pinpricks of soft, tempting delight.

This close, I can seeallof her.

She’s a perfect chocolate brown. Skin unbroken. Unblemished. Like a sculptor poured a vat of melted Hershey’s over his prized statue and painstakingly waited for it to cool. Her skin is soft and tight. Water drips down the curve of her spine to a pert and perfectly grabbable—

“Ah!” She squeezes her eyes shut and I see soap gathering under the arch of her brow.

Grazing my thumb over her eyes, I blow on it.

Her thick eyelashes flutter and I doubt it’s helping. She rubs her eyes over and over again.

“Stop. Your hand is full of soap. That won’t help.”

“Shut up,” she growls.

I laugh a little, wrapping her tighter in my arms and feeling the pressure build inside me.

She’s like a wet dream come to life.

Soft. Sweet. Open.

I hold her there.

Warm water batters the top of my head and falls into my eyes. I lean closer, inhaling the scent of her sweetly perfumed skin.

“If you wanted us to shower together, you could have just asked,” I whisper in her ear.

Her eyes are red from irritation and anger. I see a glint of outrage behind her scowl. It shouldn’t excite me as much as it does.

Brown hands flail as she shoves me.

I hold firm.

Now that I’ve got her in my arms, there’s no way in hell I’m letting her go. My gaze flicks down her delectable curves again, retracing the places my fingers beg to touch.

“Get your hands off me!” she snaps. Her nostrils flare with anger.

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