my body pepper with tiny bumps. I knew this was another power play, a way to mark me out as his without ever laying a finger on me. Saint was creative like that.
When I'd washed my hair and it hung over me in a heavy sheet, he gave me his next command. "Switch the water to warm and use my soap to wash yourself."
I twisted the knob around and sighed as the warm water ran over me, chasing away the cold in an instant. I picked up Saint's soap, rubbing it over my body until a foam was bubbling over my breasts and running down my stomach between my thighs. My heart was thumping to a frantic, unknown beat at the feel of his eyes on me. It was so intense. I should have been ashamed or nervous, but I was neither of those things. I just felt present, focused on him and his orders and nothing else.
Steam was fogging on the glass and Saint suddenly opened the door so he could keep watching me. He wet his lips, his eyes burning holes in my flesh as he devoured me.
"Wash your pussy. Slowly," he gritted out, his eyes following my hand as I slid it between my thighs. My heart jack-hammered, my toes scrunching against the floor as I rubbed the bar of soap over my clit and a shudder ran through me.
He surveyed me with an intensity that made me want to grab him, pull him under the flow and feel his mouth on my skin. I wanted to fall to ruin for Saint Memphis. I wanted him to control my body and make me break and fall for him. I realised I was gasping for breath, my body tightening and clenching with need as I continued to circle that slick bar over and over myself.
"Enough," he growled. "Get out."
He stepped back and I dropped the bar of soap, trembling a little with the need for release as I did as he said, my eyes snagging on the huge bulge in his jeans. I froze before him, water streaming off of me as I waited for his next order, foolishly hoping that he might take this further. I was so close to him and his eyes on my body felt almost as good as his hands would as he trailed his gaze over each part of me. The air between us was electric, tangible. I could hardly breathe with how much I wanted to close the distance between us. And from the look on his face, he felt the exact same way.
"Dry off." He pointed at a large towel on the rack, stepping back again with an almost pained expression on his face. He schooled it fast, but I'd seen the transparency of his desire. He wanted this as badly as I did. But whatever it was that stayed his hand was still firmly in place in him. Maybe his need for control ran so deep that denying us both pleasure was another way to do it. I knew he'd had women before though, so what was it about me that made him resist?
I dried myself off with a towel and he directed me to put on the night dress hanging on the back of the door. I slid into it and he moved forward to arrange my damp hair over my shoulders and wipe a single droplet of water from my forehead.
"Perfect," he announced, inhaling to smell his own scent on me. “Now help me out of this sling.”
I moved forward to help him take it off and placed it down on the basin as he slowly stretched out his arm which was in a cast, wincing a little as he did so.
“Does it hurt?” I asked, my voice strained.
“Not as much as losing you would have,” he murmured and my heart thundered against my ribcage. "Go back to my room. Wait for me."
I nodded, turning and leaving him there as he wrapped his cast in a small towel one-handed. I heard him step into the shower as I closed the door behind me with a sharp click. I moved to the bed, sitting on the end of it and waiting, unable to help straining my ears, wondering if Saint was pleasuring himself over what he'd just seen. But if he was, I couldn't hear anything from here.
I thought over what he’d said to me and soaked in the undeniable heat in my chest it had left with