Page 88 of Wine & Whiskey
“Always.” He holds out his hand, his chest constricting from the fear she might not accept, may not welcome his touch. “You never have to ask.”
Her fingers grasp his, her once bright eyes drowning in an ocean of tears. “I’m so sorry. I should never have—”
Fuck this.She deserves so much better than the hell he puts her through.
He sweeps her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing his mouth against hers, halting her needless words. Water ricochets off their bodies crushed together under the dual waterfalls, and she relaxes in his arms, parting her lips to let him delve deeper. Slippery hands glide up his back, soothing his anguish from pushing her away.
All he can see is her, all he knows is her touch, blazing over his skin, insistent on building their connection again. His fingers drive through her tumbling hair, holding her head in place as he pulls back and meets her tortured gaze. “I need you, and you’re here. Nothing else matters.”
Ragged breaths heave in her chest as her fingertips clutch his shoulders. “I need you more.”
“Promise you’ll never leave me.”
“I swear.”
He presses her against the wall and thrusts inside her. Unable to hold back from driving into her softness, shuddering at the feel of her around him. Her arms encircle his neck, and she nuzzles his cheek, whispering his name into his hair while he grasps her hips, not allowing any space between them. “Do you know how much you mean to me?”
“I was worried you regretted asking me to marry you.”
Like a knife to his chest, her uncertainty almost undoes him, panicking at the realization he almost destroyed the one thing he needs to live. “Never. Loving you is one of the few things in my life I’m not sorry about.”
Her lips find his again, and she swirls her tongue inside his mouth. Ripples of pleasure roll through him from the intensity of her kiss, her moan melting the tension gripping his muscles. One touch from this beautiful angel can bring him to his knees, where he should be, begging for the forgiveness he doesn’t deserve.
Over and over, he plunges into her, letting her sweet essence heal his torment. To erase the image of her crumpled on the ground at the vineyard, the thought of Spencer holding her down, his hand over her mouth. The fear drenching her words as she talked to Marta while he stood on the steps after searching for her. A rare moment of powerlessness, with an army of his men scouring the house, unable to interrupt and pull her away to show her everything she means to him.
Thank God for Marta. If not for her, Shae probably would have left, and he’d be going fucking crazy, rather than holding her against him. The intensity of her urgent touch a reminder of what he can lose—she told Evan yes too, and now she’s in his arms. Her damp hair swishes across his shoulder as he buries himself deeper inside her. He can’t fuck this up, can’t wake up a year from now alone, with her in some other motherfucker’s bed.
Their hands entwine, and he kisses down her arm as it lies against the smooth surface of the shower. The hot, moist air fills with her flowery scent, consuming him with a drunkenness more powerful than any other addiction. “You never have to doubt my love for you.”
“I don’t. I know how much you love me.”
Her breathless whisper pushes him to the brink, taking him to the only heaven he’ll ever experience. “And how much I want you to be my wife.”
“Yes.” Her voice breaks as she cries out his name, trembling in his arms. His forehead presses against the cool tile as his body jerks against hers. They belong to each other again.
He caresses her hair as her breathing calms, her lips pressing tiny kisses against his neck. After a few moments, she rises from his chest and rubs his cheeks. “I need to take a real shower.”
The perfect opportunity to shut out the rest of the world for a little bit longer. “Do you want me to wash your back?”
“I would love it.”
She kisses him softly before sliding down his body, his muscles relaxing at the happiness in her eyes. Her smile never fades as she pours creamy, purple body wash onto a pouf and hands it to him. All the uncertainty from earlier is gone. She accepts his apology and welcomes his love.
As he glides the mesh ball across her delicate skin, her head droops forward, and he runs his tongue along the curve of her neck and across her shoulders. “I’ve wanted to do that since the plane.”
“I would’ve liked it, but I’m not sure what Max and the guys would have thought.”
Enticed by her silky skin, he continues downward, placing kisses along her spine to the small of her back. She gasps as his hand slides between her legs, caressing her soft folds, the little nub throbbing under his fingertips.
She grips his hair and leans against his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be washing me.”
“It’s hard to make you clean when I have such dirty thoughts.”
“Then I’d better take over.” She winks before sliding the loofah out of his hand and rubbing it down her arms and across her stomach.
Desire flames in every taut nerve as her soapy fingertips brush across her breasts and trail down to her hips. She circles over each thigh before he cups his hand over hers, squeezing the mesh sponge. Unable to resist, he moves their hands between her legs stroking softly, lather bubbling between their fingers. Her eyes close from his fingers dipping inside her, teasing the special spot she loves.
A smile crosses her lips as she leans against him. “You’re doing a terrible job of washing me. I think I’m going to have to fire you.”
