Page 50 of Cold as Stone
“Lee Armstrong,” she says quietly. “You bought me groceries.”
“It’s just premix pancake batter.”
“You bought me groceries because you were hoping I’d let you spend the night.” She sits up, the sheet pooling around her waist. “That might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“It’s just food, Kya.”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling.
I roll my eyes, ruffle her hair and roll out of bed. “Coffee first or shower?”
“Shower,” she says immediately. “Followed immediately by coffee. I’m not human until I’ve had coffee.”
“Noted. One cup of humanity, coming up.”
I dress and head outside to retrieve the pancake mix and syrup from my saddlebags before coming back in to start her ancient coffee maker. The thing gurgles and protests but eventually produces something that smells like coffee.
I hear the shower start, and despite my best intentions, my mind immediately goes to places it shouldn’t. Kya naked, water running down those curves I’ve been trying not to think about, soap slicking over skin I’m dying to touch.
“Lee?” Her voice drifts from the bathroom, and I nearly drop the coffee pot.
“Yeah?”
“Can you come here for minute?”
My mouth goes dry.
Fuck. She’s going to kill me.
I find myself walking toward the bathroom before I can think better of it. The door is cracked open, steam curling out, and through the frosted glass I can see her silhouette.
“What do you need?” I ask, my voice rougher than intended.
“Come in, please.”
I step inside, and sweet hell, the sight nearly brings me to my knees. The shower door is clear enough that I can see everything—the water cascading down her body, her hands moving over her skin as she washes. She’s a goddess, all soft curves and golden skin, and she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“Think I’m clean enough?” she asks, running her hands through her hair, arching her back in a way that makes me bite back a groan.
“Not at all, filthy girl.”
She chuckles and turns to face me fully, water running in rivulets down her breasts, and I grip the doorframe to keep myself upright. When her hands move lower, soaping her stomach, her thighs, I stop breathing entirely.
“Kya…”
“What?” she asks innocently, though her eyes are dark with heat.
When her hand slips between her legs, her head falls back against the tile with a soft moan, and I lose the last thread of my control. My own hand moves to my jeans, working the zipper down, because if she’s going to torture me, I’m sure as hell not going through it alone.
We watch each other through the steam. The sound of water mingles with our ragged breathing.
Her fingers are slow, teasing. She’s not desperate enough for my liking.
“You’re a tease, aren’t you, Kya?” I rasp, hand wrapped tight around my cock. “Let me see how pretty you look when you touch yourself.”
Her breath stutters. Her eyes flick to mine, wide and wanting.
“You enjoy teasing me, sweetheart?” I murmur. “Right there, with your fingers buried in that sweet little pussy?”
