Page 49 of Boiling Point
“Cal,” she panted, voice breaking on my name. “God… Cal!”
I pressed two fingers inside her, knowing right where to touch, and buried them deep. She shattered again, arching in a burst of sound and ecstasy—coming so hard and fast it nearly undid me. The way she tensed and twisted around me was breathtaking. She was incoherent when I finally gave her a reprieve.
I kissed her mouth, silencing the ragged gasp of my name with a deep, claiming possession. Her chest heaved against mine as I held her there, savoring the feel of her body beneath me. I pulled back just enough to catch the dazed look in her eyes.
“Absolutely incredible.” There was no other sight like her—not on this earth.
She blinked up at me, lips parting around a breathless laugh. “I think…” She swallowed hard. “I think we’ve earned that shower now.”
“I think we have.” I brushed sweat-damp strands of hair from her forehead. “Or anything else you want from me,” I added, tracing her cheekbone with my thumb.
“What about you?” she asked, still breathless. “I feel a little selfish this morning.”
“Nonsense.” I kissed her again, tasting sweat and sweetness and Gabrielle. “Making you come like that gives me more pleasure than you’ll ever know.”
A real laugh escaped her lips—pure joy. I let it echo in my mind as I reached into the nightstand, holding up a condom for her to see. She groaned in exasperated delight.
“Oh God,” she said, laughing again as she batted at my chest. “You really are insatiable.”
I stood and helped her off the bed, her warm skin pressing to mine as she linked her arms behind my neck. When I lifted her, she wrapped her legs around my waist, tangling herself against me once more. She was everything—warm, wild, and mine.
We stumbled into the en suite, a tangle of limbs and heat and breathless want, not bothering with the lights. I managed to turn on the water one-handed, still holding her, still kissing her.
She laughed against my lips, that glorious sound echoing off the tiles. “You’re going to have to put me down eventually, you know.”
“If you insist,” I murmured, kissing her again before setting her down to wait for the water to warm. I nipped at the curve of her neck as it heated up. “But only so I can get you into my shower without falling on my arse.”
Her laughter turned to a soft sigh as I trailed kisses along her collarbone. Steam billowed over the glass as I pulled away and took her hand. I led her into the walk-in shower and pulled the glass door closed. The heat cocooned us, wrapping tight around my senses. I set the condom on the tray beside the shampoo and body wash.
She tilted her head into the spray, water sluicing down her luminous skin that caught what little light spilled in from the bedroom. Her hair ran dark down her back like a sheet, and I was breathless—struck by how fucking beautiful she looked.
I lathered shampoo in my hands and worked it into her hair, the silken strands slipping between my fingers.
“Oh,” she said, surprised, leaning into my touch. “You weren’t kidding.”
“Not in the least.” I massaged her scalp in slow circles, savoring each sigh.
“That feels…” She paused, voice languid. “Nice. Really nice.”
I smiled at the abandon in her voice.
I detached the shower head and rinsed the lather from her hair, careful not to let any get in her eyes. “If you think that’s nice,” I said, replacing the shower head, “wait until my hands are scrubbing every inch of you clean.”
I worked body wash into my palms and slid them over her shoulders, down her arms, then back up. The soap foamed slick between us as I kept my promise, lathering every curve—every supple inch. I lingered on her breasts, watching her expression melt into bliss.
“You spoil me,” she breathed, eyes half-lidded, drunk on the sensation.
“That’s the idea.” My voice rumbled off the tiles.
She took the body wash and returned the favor, sliding suds over my chest and shoulders, down my arms and back in slow, decadent strokes. Her skin against mine was electric—a live current that lit up every nerve. When she trailed her hand down my abdomen, I drew in a sharp breath. The slide of her palm was slow and deliberate, each stroke languid and exquisite as she took hold of me.
“God, Gabrielle,” I groaned, letting my head fall back against the tiles. Steam swirled around us as the water rinsed the last traces of soap from our skin. Her touch was sumptuous—silken and sure—sending heat spiraling through every inch of me, scattering thought into light. When I opened my eyes, she was watching me—a wicked smile curling her lips—as she stroked me with the most maddeningly perfect grip. My fingers splayed against the wall, the world narrowing to this moment, this feeling, this woman who unraveled me with nothing but her hand and that look in her eyes.
Water pounded around us, mingling with my ragged breath as I moved into her hand, caught in the delicious cadence of her strokes. She brought me to the edge and held me there—tension coiling tight—until my body thrummed with raw electric need.
Her voice cut through the haze—a hushed whisper, sultry and sure. “I want you inside me.”
I grabbed the condom with a groan, tore it open, and rolled it on. “Music to my ears,” I said, hiking her leg onto the built-inshower bench and teasing her until she was slick and ready. “Say it again.”
