like a dark cloud ready to storm on anythin’ and everythin’ in his path. He strips off his shirt, droppin’ it on the ground as he closes the distance between us and looks me over.
His dark eyes focus on my hand, the one with blood all over it that I used to press part of my T-shirt to Delta’s chest.
“It’s not mine,” I reassure him, my voice suddenly loud in the pristine space. It bounces off the tiled walls as though the words are doin’ their best to comfort me too, and I release a slow breath. “I think I have some glass in my back, but other than that, I’m okay.”
Flint nods, his jaw grindin’, like he still can’t trust himself to talk. He looks at the pieces of my shirt that are bein’ held together by threads. He examines it for a moment, his gaze makin’ my skin heat in every place it roves. He stares at my wings and apparently comes to the conclusion that there’s no hope for gettin’ this shirt off around them, so he brings his hands up to the fabric and then rips it clean off.
I swear, I feel the action right in my clit. I know he’s not tryin’ to get me all hot and bothered, because the way he’s lookin’ me over is very clinical and filled with concern, but that was hot. There’s just somethin’ about a male rippin’ your clothes right off your body.
I do my best to keep my thoughts and reactions to his close proximity and manhandlin’ to myself. Otherwise, I’m sure he’ll just say I’m havin’ an itch again, and next thing I know, I’ll wake up droolin’ on the pillow all alone and embarrassed for a second time. No, thank you.
As the remnants of my shirt flutter to the floor, Flint reaches down and pops open the button of my shorts with sure, steady hands. My breath hitches in my throat, and I instinctively grab his forearms, my fingers diggin’ into his hard form.
He pauses, like he’s startin’ to come out of his haze and just now realized how intimate this is. His dark eyes flick up to me as he slowly pulls down the zipper. I don’t breathe as he drags it down. I can feel the metal teeth part as he drops his hand lower and lower, and it sends all kinds of needy signals to all the places I want him to touch.
I swallow a moan and curse my hardenin’ nipples as he pushes my shorts down my hips and takes my underwear with them as he goes. I step out of them when they land on the floor, and then Flint moves to unhook my bra.
If Flint notices my diamond hard nipples and barely muffled whimper, he doesn’t let on. Just as soon as I’m naked, he clasps my wrist and pulls me into the now steamy shower. Oddly, he keeps his jeans on as we step under the warm, steadily flowin’ stream of water, and I’m not sure what to think about that.
The water feels good, and I can’t bite back the moan fast enough as it hits my wings and body, the temperature stealin’ away my tension.
Damn, these feathered things are sensitive.
My wings flex a little as though they’re agreein’ with that thought, and then suddenly, Flint’s hands come up to feel one of them. I gasp at the sensation that strikes through me at his touch. I feel like he’s squeezin’ my heavy breasts, clit, and ass cheeks all at the same time, but he’s nowhere near any of those danger zones. No, instead, he’s slowly extendin’ my wing and runnin’ a slow, careful hand over the skin of my back as he checks for glass.
Plink.
The familiar sound reaches my ears, and I spot a piece of glass bounce to the far corner of the shower.
“We have to stop meetin’ like this,” I joke in an effort to lighten the mood.
Flint snorts, but I can tell it’s gonna take more than one joke to pull him the rest of the way out of his dark thoughts.
He lifts my wing higher, and I try not to acknowledge what it’s doin’ to me. Who knew wings could be an erogenous zone? I feel like maybe Delta should’ve warned me or somethin’. Then again, I doubt either of us gave much thought to whether I’d be sportin’ a pair so soon. I hadn’t even processed the fact that I could have