Page 138 of A Very Merry Enemy
With Dominic, sex was about performance. About fucking to fuck. It was always about him and what he wanted. My satisfaction didn’t matter. Pleasing him should’ve been enough.
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter.
“What?” Lucas asks, pulling away.
I shake my head. “Nothing. I was in my head.”
Lucas looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters. “Be with me, right here, right now. Get out of there.” He taps on my temple. “Okay? Little Miss Overthinker.”
“Okay,” I tell him as we step into the shower.
“I’ve missed this,” he says as the stream falls over us. “Being close to you. Touching you. Having you in my space. I didn’t realize how much until now.”
He reaches for the shampoo and pours some into his palm, then his fingers slide into my hair. He massages my scalp in circles that make my eyes drift closed. No one has ever touched me with as much care and attention as Lucas. The man is a lover.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“You,” I tell him.
This makes him smile.
He takes his time, working the shampoo all the way through my hair before guiding me under the spray to rinse. When my hair is clean, he grabs the conditioner. By the time he’s done, I’m overly relaxed, leaning against him for support.
“Now let me wash you,” he says.
“Princess treatment,” I whisper.
“Queen treatment,” he says, kissing my shoulder.
Lucas grabs the body wash and loofah, then starts at my shoulders. His touch causes heat to rise throughout me as he moves down my arms, across my collarbone, and over my breasts. When his thumbs brush over my nipples, I gasp.
“Sensitive?” he asks.
“They’ve always been.”
“I remember.” His hands continue exploring me. Light fingertips slide down my ribs, across my stomach, over my hips. “I remember everything about your body. Every place that makes you sigh. Every spot that makes you moan.”
His hand slides between my legs, and I have to brace myself against the tile wall. His fingers move in slow, torturous circles, and I feel my knees go weak.
“Are you with me, Peaches?”
I laugh and smile. “Yes. I was just thinking about how, withyou, it’s different. I’m not a box to check off your list. You care about my pleasure. You?—”
“Shh.” Lucas places his hands on my shoulders and meets my eyes. Suddenly, we’re eighteen again, and he’s about to give me life advice.
“I’m sorry that you only dated pieces of shit after me. I’m sorry they treated you like a condiment instead of a precious commodity.” He kisses down my neck, between my breasts, and drops to his knees. “Look at me.”
I meet his green eyes and he smiles. “You deserve to be worshipped, Holiday.”
When he presses a kiss to my hip bone, I thread my fingers through his hair. He studies me like he would a piece of art. We look at each other in the candlelight and steam, both breathing harder now. Carefully, he lifts my leg and steadies me as he devours me.
“Fuck,” I whisper as he focuses on my clit. He hums when I rock my hips, loving the way his stubble feels against me.
“You’re trying to make me come,” I whisper.
He nods, slowing down his pace, burying his face in my pussy. I’m greedy for him, almost too greedy. Two fingers slide inside me, and when he curls them, I nearly lose myself.
“Not yet,” he tells me.
