Page 263 of Coach
My whole body tensed.
Steam made the shower tiles slick, so I gripped his head, tangled my fingers in his hair, the only way I could think to take back some measure of control.
His mouth bobbed. His tongue swirled. He slurped and sucked and—
“Mateo, you’d better stop or—”
He quickened, his lips tightened, his tongue circled faster.
My body shook.
My abs clenched.
His hand rose and gripped my chest like he was trying to break me.
Pain and pleasure flared, mingled, wove together.
“Mateo!”
I tried to push him back, to push him off.
I was so damn close.
Still he held on, driving, willing me into him deeper with each rise and fall of his beautiful head.
Stars exploded across my eyes as release burst from me . . .
Into Mateo.
He drank me in.
Wave after wave, Mateo drank me in.
Until I slumped down onto the tiles beside him and let him hold me beneath the steaming water.
Chapter 35
Mateo
My eyes pried open, a bit crusty from a night of sleep and a morning that had come too early.
I felt warm, somehow heavy, wrapped in something solid and safe.
For a moment, I didn’t quite know where I was.
The ceiling above me wasn’t my apartment’s, and the bed beneath me wasn’t mine either. It was far too big, too soft, too . . . finely crafted. I ran my fingers along the headboard, feeling smooth grooves, knots, and carved vines.
And then the steady rise and fall of Shane’s chest beneath my cheek brought everything back to my waking mind.
The couch.
The shower.
Now Shane’s bed.
In Shane’s arms.
He’d held me all night, never let go, not even once.
