Make Me - Tessa Bailey Page 0,71
them, obscuring his face, so she moved closer. “I was coming back down to the beach so we could do it all again.”
His long exhale of breath shifted the steam. “Is that true? You weren’t upset?” He dropped his hands to his sides, and she could feel the effort he put into not reaching for her. “I was so rough for your first time . . . there are nail marks all over my back. I don’t even remember your leaving them.”
It turned her on hearing that. Made her feel possessive in a new, momentous way. “We left marks on each other, then.” She swiped her rapidly dampening hair back from her face. “Is it wrong that I like that?”
“I don’t know,” he grated. “But I’m making a promise to you, Abby. If you give me a chance, we’ll find out together. Find out everything about these things I feel and make sure they aren’t bad for you.”
“For us. Bad for us.” She licked the condensation from her lips. “And I feel them, too, in a different way. In . . . reverse.” Her voice sounded fainter in the drumming of her pulse. It was coming. They were going to be together again, and she could barely breathe around the eagerness. Praying he wouldn’t protest or insist they talk more, Abby went up on her toes and lifted Russell’s shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. Oh boy. Had he gotten bigger, more cut? The heat inside the bathroom had caused him to perspire, making his rising and falling chest glow with masculine sweat. “Will you take a shower with me?”
His Adam’s apple rose and dropped. “There’s more to talk about.”
No. She wasn’t having that. Anticipation pumped too brightly, consuming her from the middle and radiating out. Keeping her gaze locked with Russell’s fevered one, she unzipped his jeans and shoved them down, leaving him in a pair of white boxer briefs. She couldn’t help perusing the body she’d revealed. The sweat dripping down his stomach, absorbing into the hem of his underwear, made her tongue jealous. “I have this fantasy where you . . .”
“What?” he prompted in a harsh voice.
“You wash me in the shower.”
Chapter 18
UNTIL NOW, HE’D been attempting to keep his attention glued above Abby’s neck, but with the uttering of those words, Russell broke. He groaned and swayed toward her, preying on her breasts with eyes starved for the sight of her flesh. She’d known—known – he’d have the corresponding desire. It was there in her knowing expression, the way she lowered her chin and regarded him through long eyelashes. Yeah, she’d known the act of caring for her would be the ultimate temptation. Caring for his Abby. Doing for her.
His cock stretched longer inside the damp boxer briefs, feeling strangled. He bent down and ripped a condom from his pants pocket, impatience spurring him toward Abby and fuck, somehow the way she backed away with that . . . obedient expression made him feel like a king. Her king. And her king was feeling thick below the waist and ready to blow.
“The way you’re looking at me is a fucking hazard, Abby.”
“Should I stop?”
Christ, with every word, every movement¸ she handed him more and more control. After a week of solitary confinement, he was sprinting past the prison walls. Not going back. I can’t go back. “I’ll tell you if I want you to stop.”
Her back hit the glass shower door, shaking it. “Okay.”
She turned and started to climb into the running shower, but a vision of her slipping had Russell lunging forward to help. After that, touching her dewy, bare skin, he was totally fucked. With Abby’s back to his front, he walked them under the spray, groaning louder with each step. Couldn’t help it with the way her ass cheeks lifted and fell against his dick. “Getting ready to touch yourself, were you?” He tugged her head to the side and nipped hard at her ear. “Were you going to stroke where my fingers stroked? Push your fingers into that tight little space where my cock goes?” Her nod was jerky. “Turn around and see what you’re getting instead.”
He didn’t wait for her to move but spun her himself. Droplets of water had the privilege of spotting her face, her neck, her tits, reminding him of where he’d come their first time together. How she’d looked wearing him in the filtered moonlight.
“I’m coming between your thighs this time, understand?” Russell