Page 88 of The Sinner and the Scholar
He takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut. He speaks without opening them. “You were right after you stabbed me. I had to suck it up. I’m not brave or a fighter, but I can do this. I can take care of you.”
A lump forms in my throat.
“Wes,” I sigh. “I only said that to keep you angry so you’d live long enough for me to return. You’re the bravest man I know. Everyone you loved died around you, yet you kept going. You could have shut yourself off from the world, but you made friends and put them before anyone else. Can’t you see you’re an inspiration?”
His cheeks flush. “I don’t want just to inspire you. I want you to know I can… be a man.”
I press my lips to his collarbone and rest my face on his chest… maybe because I can’t look into his eyes for the next bit. I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but I have to. “Wes, you protect me every time you call me on my bullshit. I can be my own worst enemy. And sometimes… you see that I need something… different… and you find a way to give it to me but make it less shameful. You make me feel safe. You accept me as I am, and that’s the best kind of man in my book.”
He kisses the top of my head, mumbles something I don’t catch, but I think it’s aboutalways and forever,then continues massaging my hair. Not long after, I run my hands down his front and resume stroking his erection. My actions keep tugging my head from his shampooing efforts.
“Thea,” he warns.
“Wes,” I return.
“I can play this rough, too.”
“Can you?”
He laughs, only for an instant, because his mood sobers when he understands what I want. I get a flash of the devil in his eyes. He takes me by the throat and pushes me beneath the water. I splutter as the shampoo washes from my hair. He holds me there forcibly until I’m ready to kick him in the balls, then he tugs me out of the stream and captures my mouth with a blistering kiss.
The soap has made us slippery. When our bodies clash, my nipples brush his chest, and sparks shoot down my spine. I ignore the pain lancing my ribs. He spins me, facing me to the wall, and grips my neck. He pushes me under the faucet again.
It reminds me of what he did to me on the plane, how he bent me over the seat. I whimper for more.
“You love it like this, don’t you?” His voice is hoarse in my ear.
“Yes.”
“What parts?”
“All of it. I love you manhandling me like you have a right. Like I belong to you. Like if I keep giving you sass, and it gets in the way of you caring for me, you’ll do whatever it takes to finish. You don’t give up on me.”
I push back, defy a little, and he slaps my ass.
Hard.
I cry out. The sting of wet flesh tears up my eyes, but the same hand that hurt molds to my buttocks and soothes me. He mumbles how much he needs to take care of me, how I always need to let him finish showing me what I deserve.
Pleasure.
Now I’m too hot. Too needy. The water isn’t giving me relief. I need him. He squeezes my bottom hard, and I whimper. He backs off, confused by my sound.
“Keep touching me.” I place my palms on the tiles and lean forward until my forehead rests against the cool surface. “Wes.”
I don’t think he meant for this to escalate in the shower. He truly wants to make a sweet, loving gesture. And I’ll take that later. But right now, I need corrupted Wes. The one who will walk hand-in-hand with me to hell… if I’m still going there.
“Get on your knees for me, Wes,” I breathe, glancing over my shoulder. “Like you did before.”
His eyes are glued to my ass. He catches me looking, and his lust deepens. Every part of him tenses. Veins pop in his muscles. The surviving tattoos look stark against his paler skin. Holding my gaze, he swipes fingers between my thighs and says gruffly, “You need me here, love?”
But he doesn’t touch where I want. I widen my stance, panting. “Stop teasing.”
A smug look comes over him. His fingers roam closer to my pussy. Closer. Another swipe. He traces over the mound and down the other thigh. I’m bottled up like a dam, throbbing and aching. I’m ready to show him who’s in charge when he drops his lips to my spine and kisses down the arch until he’s biting my buttocks.
“Wes…”
The soft, velvety strokes of his tongue move down the seam. He pulls apart my cheeks, licks around my anus, and then probes lower until he finds my quivering center. The deep, satisfied groan that rattles out of him makes me melt. The base of that man’s voice can heat me as much as any fire.
