Dragging myself off the couch, I shuffle to the bathroom to piss.
“Oh, god!” Delilah stands naked just outside the shower, her damp hair sticking to her shoulders and her body drenched in steam. She grabs a towel off a nearby hook and drapes it in front of her body – as if I haven’t seen every square inch of her before.
“Jesus, sorry.” I lift a hand in protest.
“Haven’t you heard of knocking?”
“I didn’t know you were in here.”
She wraps the towel around her, securing it under her left arm, her cheeks flushed and rosy. The scent of hotel soap fills the steamy air between us.
“Are you just going to keep standing there?” she asks. “You mind?”
I shake my head. “Yeah. I just . . . sorry. It’s early. And I couldn’t think for a second because you’re standing there in nothing but a fucking towel. It’s distracting.”
Her eyes fall to the bulging hard on poking from my boxer briefs.
“Seriously?” She points.
“It’s morning wood,” I say. “Not that it’s useless. Hard is hard.”
Her jaw falls.
“Not that it couldn’t be because of you too. I mean, shit, Delilah, you . . .” I realize I’m digging myself a deeper hole and I should shut the hell up immediately.
Her brows lift and her gaze is trained on me. I think she likes this despite that rigid posture of hers and despite the fact that she’s pretending to be all kinds of pissed at me right now. I thinks she wants to hear how sexy she is, how much she turns me on, and how hard it is for me not to fucking touch her right now.
“You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” I keep a careful distance, all the better to drive her wild. “Even with your hair all hanging in your face and you looking like you want to slap me right now, it’s all I can do to keep from thinking about all the things I could do to you.”
Her lips press together as she swallows. I take it she’s speechless.
Moving closer, I add, “You know how hard it was for me to be in the same room as you last night and know I couldn’t touch you?”
“Why couldn’t you?” she responds.
Choking on my words, I scoff. “Why couldn’t I? You were a goddamned ice queen last night. No way was I fucking that.”
Her eyes roll and she glances down. I lift my hand to her chin, tilting her face up until our eyes meet again.
“Give me the girl I fucked last week. The one ripping her clothes off in my kitchen. The one I carried to my bed like a fucking caveman,” I say. “I can’t stand this ice queen bullshit. And I realize you’re doing it to protect yourself, but Jesus, Delilah. Live a little.”
She drags her lower lip between her teeth.
“Maybe you think fucking me was a mistake,” I say. “But I say life is all about making mistakes. Living in the moment. Being a little bit reckless. Opening yourself up so much it hurts.”
Delilah exhales, glancing up at me through dark lashes.
“There’s a lot more to you than you let on,” she muses, head tilted. “Never would’ve guessed you were a philosopher, de la Cruz.”
“Nah,” I say. “I just understand people more than most.”
We stand toe to toe, sharing space and wrapped in a blanket of thinning shower fog. Her arms are dotted with goose bumps, and she begins to shiver. Grabbing another clean towel from the rack behind her, I drape it over her shoulders and pull her against my chest.
My cock, which is still very much hard and very much throbbing, presses against her.
“I’d apologize for that, but I’m kind of not sorry,” I say.
“Nice. Really nice.”
“You like it,” I say. “I can tell.”
“You’re cocky.”
With my hand cupping her jaw, I trace my thumb along her full bottom lip, dragging it back and forth.
“What are you doing?” she asks with a slight laugh.
“Trying my damnedest not to put my mouth all over you right now.”
Her lips inch up at the corners, and my gaze narrows on hers.
“I want you so bad, Delilah.” My voice is low, my declaration stark. I press my hips against hers so she can feel what she does to me.
Her hands circle my wrist, dragging it down, but just when I think she’s going to let it go, she pulls me toward the sink.
“What do you want to do to me, de la Cruz?” she asks, hopping up on the counter.
“Don’t tempt me, gorgeous.” I press my chest against hers, crushing her mouth with mine before running my lips down the creamy flesh of her neck. Breathing in her clean scent, I catch a hint of her arousal.
I knew it. I fucking knew it.
Grabbing a fistful of towel, I yank it away until she’s fully exposed.
Her fingers lace through my hair as I cup her left breast in my palm, teasing her pink bud until she gasps and exhales, and my cock expands until it aches.
“Can’t keep my hands off you.” I breathe into her ear, feeling the apple of her cheek against mine as she smiles. “Something about you is so addictive. I can’t figure it out. And shit. I don’t want to.”
My fingertips trail down her arm, down the curve of her hip, and maneuvers between her thighs. Dragging a finger between her slick seam, I press it inside. Her head falls back, her damp hair stuck to her shoulders as her lips part.
Sliding a second finger inside, I pump in and out of her, my thumb massaging her clit as her hips wiggle in response.