Page 94 of Our Lips Are Sealed
Appearing in the doorway, Samuel propped a shoulder on the frame, watching her while she dried her hair. “I like this.”
“The domestication or the lingerie?”
“Both.” He licked his lips, his gaze tracing the outline of her thong. “Tomorrow morning, we should go for a run. I usually jog five miles a day on the beach.”
Evie shut the dryer off, her dark blonde hair still damp. “I’m not doing that.”
“You need a stress reliever. I don’t want you burying all that’s happened into that hard head of yours.”
“Then buy me a treadmill, but I’m not running in the sand.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s just gross.”
He came over to lay a kiss on her shoulder, running a finger under the hot pink strap of the bra. “What bothers you more? The sand, or trying to keep up with me?”
She set the dryer down and spun to face him. “As soon as I feel better, I will dust the floor with your ass.”
“You’re so violently competitive.”
“It turns you on.”
Samuel hoisted her to sit on the counter, planting her feet wide on the marble. Dropping to his knees, he slipped the thong out of the way. “Oh yeah, it does.”
Evie clutched his hair at the first flick of tongue, rolling her hips over his face. The scrape of stubble sent shivers through her body. “What are you doing?”
“Being domesticated.”
Another thing to get used to would be the bathroom walls. Like the bedroom, the exterior ones were made of glass, but the interiors were wall-to-wall mirrors. And right then, they were giving Evie a fantastic view of Samuel on his knees with his boxers lowered, stroking himself while feasting between her legs.
Yeah, she could definitely get used to this.
“When are we meeting Cohen at the house?”
“In an hour,” he answered, his voice husky with annoyance at being interrupted. “We have time.”
“Good, then get up here, and be my stress reliever this morning.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, and rose to stand, yanking her roughly to the counter’s edge. In the bright bathroom light, they watched together as he sank in deep, inch by inch.
“Oh, fuck, that’s hot,” she breathed, her eyes glued to the sight of him gliding in and out. “Go harder.”
“No.”
His mouth captured a nipple, sucking it through the lace of the bra. Over his head, she watched his ass flexing in the mirror, fucking her at a torturously slow pace.
“Please, Samuel,” she whined. “I need you to…”
At a loss, she let the sentence trail off, unable to put into words how she wanted to feel alive. To know they were safe, and still Samuel and Evie.
But most of all, she wanted him to use her as he had in New Orleans, reminding them both that death wasn’t waiting around the corner to pounce.
He slammed in a single time, and Evie bit his shoulder, grunting for more. Kissing his way up her neck, he returned the favor, sinking his teeth into the sensitive spot under her ear. “I said no. You have a head wound.”
“I’ll let you know if it’s too much, I promise.” Using her hands, she lifted her lower half off the counter to take him deeper. “I can handle it.”
On a groan, Samuel pulled out, dragging her down to stand. In a dizzying move, she found herself flipped around, and bent over the counter.
“I fucking hope so.”
Evie’s hand slapped against the vanity mirror for support when he rammed home, powering into her from behind. The already intense pressure inside her hitched up a notch when their eyes met in the glass. Held hypnotized by the image they created, she smiled darkly at the reflection, greedily taking every violent thrust offered.
