The Sinner - J. R. Ward Page 0,115

nipple even though there were layers between them. And as he stroked the tip, her eyes closed and her head fell back.

“That’s right,” he growled. “Just let yourself go. I’ll take care of everything.”

She murmured something, maybe it was about fairness, maybe it was about guilt, he didn’t know and didn’t care. And he wasn’t going to give her any more chances to think.

With his other hand, he pulled her ass in as he rolled his pelvis so that his arousal rubbed on her. Releasing her breast, he quickly drew the zipper of her fleece down and then he lifted her loose T-shirt up. Her bra had a front clasp and he released it.

Bending to her flesh, he nestled his way in through her clothes, his mouth seeking . . . finding.

As he sucked on what he sought, she gasped and grabbed the nape of his neck, urging him closer to the pillow of her breast. He more than obliged. And it wasn’t enough.

He was damn well going to fix that.

She was wearing sweatpants. Which was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Putting his hand between her legs, he rubbed her sex through the soft folds as he nursed at her. Licked at her. Nibbled her.

As he worked her, she was panting, gripping any piece of him she could get ahold of, saying his name.

Syn let her nipple pop out of his mouth. Then he spun her around so she faced away from him. Grabbing onto her hips, he yanked her feet back and bent her over.

“Put your palms on the wall.”

She complied, but seemed to do it blindly, fumbling before she found the brace.

Syn ripped her sweatpants down. And took her panties south with them.

Even in the dim light, her sex glistened, swollen and pink between the pale curves of her buttocks.

It was a glorious sight.

Syn was so glad they’d stayed a little longer.

Yes, I need help.”

Of course she did, Butch thought. And he should not have asked Mel that question.

Keeping the curses to himself, he backed over to where she was standing by the slowly filling tub. He turned around only when he had to, and as he unfastened the bustier, he looked solely at the claw hooks of the garment. He didn’t touch her creamy skin and he was not aroused—and God, he hoped she didn’t make a move on him. As beautiful as she was, he wasn’t tempted in the slightest, and he really didn’t want to have to humiliate her by shutting her down.

She didn’t need that kind of capper to this night—

The bustier fell off Mel’s body and landed in the rushing water.

As she let out a cry of dismay, she bent over, grabbed it, and straightened in a quick movement. Which caused her breasts to swing freely—

Butch wheeled away and went back to the racks of clothes, placing himself all the way across the apartment, the space, the whatever-the-hell this was. A moment later, the faucet was cut off and there was the dunk/dunk of two feet stepping into the deep-bellied basin . . . followed by the hiss of someone who was injured as they sank their sore bones into warm water.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel awkward.”

The words Mel spoke were soft and tinted with contrition.

“I’m not awkward.” Butch pulled out a black sequined skirt that had a ruffle of netting around the hem. “I know where I stand.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m in love with my wife, and she’s the only person I have any sexual interest in.” He tucked the skirt back into alignment and continued down the lineup. “So I’m good—wow, check out the McQueen.”

“Most of the men I know don’t have that kind of discipline.”

Butch glanced over at the tub. Mel had stretched out and leaned back into the curve of its far edge, her head propped on the lip, her brunette hair hanging down in thick ringlets that nearly reached the floor. That her eyes were closed with exhaustion made him worried, but at least there was a rosy blush coming back into her cheeks.

“It’s not a case of discipline,” he said. “You’re a gorgeous woman, but it’s not about you. It’s about who’s waiting for me at my home.”

Mel’s lids lifted and she stared into space for a moment. Then she turned her head and looked at him across the distance he’d put between them.

“Can I ask you something?” she murmured.

Butch refocused on the clothes, pulling out a black leather skirt that was

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