Page 33 of Sinner
Thirteen
Mary watchedFlint as he reverently undressed her. Her ears burned. Her heart pounded. Her eyes and throat were raw from crying. She was done with feeling guilty for wanting. This—what they had between them—was special. This was how she came back from death. This was how she lived again.
Gloria was right. Love had a way of bringing out the best in people.
Flint was also right. Anything could have made her original vision change course. It could have been a decision someone else made, not her. And after she’d admonished him for paying for someone else’s mistake, she’d almost done the same thing.
Not anymore.
If she wanted a world full of love, she had to lead by example. Starting right now. Mary pulled the shower curtain back and stepped into the hot stream and let it wash away her anxiety. The water pulsed down on her face, her back, her chest. Two seconds later, she realized Flint hadn’t followed her. Mary turned around, her body left the spray, and she shivered, goosebumps erupting over her skin.
Flint’s gaze snagged on her mouth, then traveled down… and back up. He watched her, mesmerized.
“Are you going to help me?” she asked.
“I’m going to do more than help you,” he said, voice raw. “I’m going to make you forget everything that made you cry.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“I’m going to run my fingers all over your soapy body, starting with your shoulders, your beautiful neck, and then work my way down to your breasts. Then I’m going to take each nipple into my mouth and suck on them until you beg me to stop.”
A slow, sinful smile curved his lips.
“While my mouth is doing that,” he continued, eyes roving where his words indicated, “my fingers will slide downward, over your stomach, your perfect ass, between your legs… and then I’m going to do things that will have you moaning my name. I might even—”
“Are you going to talk about it, or do it?”
“Fuck.” He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it to the floor with earnest. “I’m going to do it.”
The rest of his clothes were gone in a blink and he crowded into the shower, taking up the small space with his big body. She barely had time to enjoy the view of his lean torso before he was on her. His fingers slotted into her wet hair, his thumbs pressed against her cheeks and he kissed her.Sweet heaven, he tasted good, and it drove her wild. She licked him back, nipped his lip, tasted his sweet salty tang, believing every minute of his words. He’d make her forget the bad and replace it with good.
The stiffness in her shoulder, the ache in her knuckles, all were taken over by sparks of pleasure zipping through her body. Aftershocks. Fireworks. Her hands landed on his chest, slipped down his pecs, abs, and traveled further south. He shuddered, skin pulling taut under her touch.
“Mary,” he whispered hotly into her mouth, warning her. He pulled away, eyes dreamy and dazed. “I said I would wash you. Shit. Where’s the fucking soap?”
Mary chuckled. “There.” She pointed.
“Good. Fucking great.” He picked up the fresh bar from the dish, unwrapped the paper and wantonly ditched the trash over the curtain. With a salacious wiggle of his eyebrows, he lathered it between his hands. “I’m going to wash the fuck out of you. Just watch me. No. Scratch that. Don’t watch me. Turn around. I can’t concentrate when you look at me that way.”
Mary couldn’t help laughing, her mood lifting. She turned to face the faucet, her back to Flint, wondering how the hell he kept doing that—cheering her up. He always did, no matter what. Even if he cursed, teased her, challenged her, his incorrigible energy was all she needed to brighten a stormy day. She pressed her palms to the wall for balance and closed her eyes.
Two warm, slippery hands landed on her neck, lathered in circles, and then slid up into her hair, washing and massaging. Then he slid and slipped down over her collarbone to her front. Further. He glided to her breasts and took special attention. Hot fingers kneaded and massaged, slipping up the underside, grazing over her nipples, skimming to her neck and then down again. And up again.Lordshe would burst with need. Slowly, surely every nerve ending tightened in her body. Hot lips landed on the spot under her ear. His tongue darted out and tasted her flesh.
She moaned and pushed back. The cushion of her rear hit his erection, and he hissed in a breath. He splayed his fingers on her stomach and tugged her tighter, pressing his shaft against the small of her back, groaning. His voice rumbled up her spine in the most delicious way. Then he pulled back, picked up the soap, reloaded and turned her around to face him, determined. Yep. He wanted to wash her. He was going to do it right.
“Your wound looks okay,” he murmured.
“Is there bone showing?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Good,” she breathed. “Need stitches?”
Another shake of the head. “I don’t think so. Bleeding’s stopped.”
His cheeks flushed, his dark hair peppered with droplets of water that fell to his face and beard. His brows drew together in concentration. And then he reached around her shoulders and rubbed her back, taking special care over her bullet graze. After he was done, he stepped closer, slotting himself between her legs, teasing her, rocking his shaft gently back and forward. He feathered his fingers down her spine, delighting in the feel of her body, watching her come undone before his eyes.
Mary’s breath came fast, her legs weakened. She wanted to reach out and take him in her hands, to guide him inside her, but he pushed her away and urged her to hold onto his waist. He braced his hands behind her back and arched her backward. Bending low, he captured a stiff nipple in his mouth and rolled it with his tongue.
