KATIE
Three nights later, and still, I couldn’t remember the ride home on Thomas’s motorcycle after the attack. He’d appeared at the car door and then carried me to my bed.
I remembered the mattress dipping from the weight of his body and then strong, warm arms, a lingering kiss on my forehead. The deep, rasping sound of his voice, the words like a sweet lullaby, but not like a child’s cradlesong. They were a sensual serenade meant to be shared between lovers.
Thomas had promised not to leave me alone that evening. I’d pleaded with him to stay the following night and the next, and he had given in. I put on a brave face during the day, but when the nighttime came, I needed his reassuring presence.
The man Thomas had shot fled the scene, leaving behind the unregistered car he’d used and no fingerprints, the news reports had said.
“I’ll stay again, Katie. Understand, this is a temporary arrangement until I find the assassin,” he warned. Then, he reminded me that he would keep his clothes on and sleep on top of the quilt. “Same rules. And wear proper pajamas.”
In answer, I chose to wear as little as possible. A thin white tank top and pink pajama shorts. “These are my pajamas. This is what I wear.”
After his eyes explored my body, he forced his gaze back to mine, pushed a hand through his hair, which was sexy as hell, and said, “You’re deliberately making this difficult for me, goddamn it.”
I shrugged and slipped into bed beneath the quilt. He wasn’t wrong.
Thomas switched off the light and lay on his side. Forty-five seconds passed, twelve breaths. He cursed softly, “Bloody fucking hell.”
Lifting my body and the quilt, he positioned me so that my back was to his front, and then he drew me into his arms.
“You’re so lovely, Katie. You deserve to be free.” His fingers were in my hair until he abruptly gripped my waist and yanked my backside tightly against his arousal. “Problem is, I’m quite a selfish prick.”
Everything he did, all that he said—it was as sweet as it was infuriating, and it made me ache for more of his touch, for him to take from me what I knew he wanted, what we both wanted.
God, I needed for him to get past the guilt he carried. I was alone, locked inside an emotional cage, waiting for this man to free me. I’d saved myself for him.
“Be selfish, Thomas,” I whispered. “If that’s what it takes. Because I need you. I need you to remember us, the way we fell for each other, the park.” His lips touched my neck. A chill ran through me. The good kind. “Please remember.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” Warm breath against my skin. “Finding you changed everything for me.”
“Then, why can’t we be together?” I pushed my ass against him.
He grabbed my hips, holding me still while sucking hard where his lips rested. A reprimand. “If you do that again, I’ll sleep in the chair. Now, go to sleep, Katie.”
I squeezed my eyes shut to push back tears.
The absence of Thomas’s warm body beside mine woke me, the void leaving me anxious to feel the heat of his skin again. A sliver of light sliced through the bedroom from the bathroom door. I checked the clock. Four fifteen in the morning. Much too early. I waited. He was coming back soon. He always came back.
But when spray from the shower broke through the silence, I couldn’t stop myself from slipping out of bed and padding across the wood to stand before the door that separated us. I peered through the slight crack, wanting desperately to see him. With the heel of my palm, I gave a light push, knowing the door would slowly fall open on its own.
Thomas was naked, steam surrounding his powerful body. Hot water rinsing away the soap from his magnificent chest, pouring down his chiseled ab muscles, rushing lower, running over his hard penis.
I swallowed, my throat tight and dry. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but everything about this man was overwhelmingly big.
He wrapped a hand around his thick length and pumped angrily. Grunts came from deep in his chest as he stroked, eyes squeezed shut, as if he were still sleeping, still dreaming.
Mesmerized, I was rooted in place, watching him. It was the most sensual thing I’d ever seen. I pretended he was using my body instead of his own hand, and a blooming sensation shot through me. I licked my lips, wishing I were in the shower with him, our bodies pressed against the tiles, his enormous erection inside me …
Thomas’s eyes opened, and I gasped. I should have known. His awareness was unrivaled. A flash of erotic danger was in his gaze as it met mine. His expression warned me not to approach the glass, but I was not going to obey. Not while his eyes held mine as he still stroked himself, his fingers sliding from base to tip.
More steam settled on the glass, blurring his image. I stepped closer.
“Go back to bed, Katie.” His voice was throaty, shaky, like he was too breathless to issue commands in his usual way.
Desire washed over me, a delicious ache between my legs. I wanted to rush under the water with him and let him touch me, fill me, relieve the want inside me. The feeling was so strong that it hurt. I placed my fingertips on the glass, dying to be closer to him.
His eyes shut again as a breathy groan escaped him. “Katie, go. I can’t stop.”
He didn’t stop. He rested his tattooed forearm against the wall and dropped his head onto it. He thrust his hips, and the muscles on his ass and thighs strained as he pumped into his hand, slamming into the pleasure, his body shuddering as he came.
His shoulders caved as he panted, working to slow his breath, the shower stream cascading over his muscled back. He turned his gaze to me, not at all surprised to see me still watching him. “You shouldn’t have come in here.”
There was no chance I’d walk away now that I’d seen how it could be with him.
“I want to be with you. Don’t send me away, Thomas. Please,” I begged.
He straightened his back, and after staring at me for ten seconds, he slid open the glass and offered me his hand. “Keep your pajamas on,” he ordered, the strength in his voice returning.
I gave him my hand and stepped in, the water soaking my clothing and my hair at once. The thin fabric of my tank top clung to my breasts, presenting my erect nipples to him. His throat rumbled in response.
In an abrupt move, he captured my wrists and covered my mouth with his, thrusting his tongue inside. He pushed me against the tiles, still kissing me fiercely, releasing my arms, only to hold me in place with his hips as he cupped my breast and grabbed a fistful of my hair.
Breathless, panting, starving for more. My lips sought his again, my tongue matching his, stroke for stroke.
I reached for him, but he caught my wrists again, gathering them into one hand and raising my arms above my head, not allowing me to touch him.
His eyes dropped to my chest and moved lower, his free hand reclaiming my breast. He dragged his thumb over my nipple, sending an arousing shock through me.
“I want you,” I said, remembering how he’d thrust his manhood into his fist. It scared me and thrilled me. I wanted him to do it to me. “I want you to be inside me.” I tugged to break free of his hold.
“Stop it,” he growled.
But I didn’t want to stop. I ached for him. There was no coming back from that kind of need.
“Thomas,” I moaned, lifting onto my toes to meet his touch, begging him to use his thumb again. I twisted my arms, my hands.
“I said, stop.” Darkness flashed in his eyes as he increased the pressure on my wrists. “You will obey me, Katie.”
“But I—”
“You nothing,” he snapped. His pupils dilated, constricted, his emotion alternating between pleasure and anger. “Do you see me, Katie … the way I see you? Look closely.” Another part of his soul revealed itself in his eyes—the savage intensity he’d kept from me. “I’m a fucked up bastard. You want me, and that pleases me, but the cost is more than I’ll allow you to pay.”
Something unexpected raced through me. My vision narrowed. The rapid pounding of my heart sped faster. He’d made me angry. “I’ll decide what I’m willing to pay and for what. That is the only freedom you owe me.”
Our eyes were locked. Neither of us moved a muscle. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen seconds.
One corner of his mouth twitched and then curved into a smirk. He pushed the lower half of his body against mine and then pulled back. “Look what you’ve done.”
My gaze dipped to his erection, glistening with droplets of water. The sight wasn’t unpleasant, as Lena had described, not to me. I found it masculine, stunning, inviting.
“I’m ready,” I said, challenging him, pleading with my eyes and my small voice.
The stream of water pounded on the shower floor, echoing off the tiles, and his giant, looming form made me feel tiny. But I raised my chin and held his blue eyes with a piercing stare.
He let go of my wrists but remained close, caging me inside his heat. “Have you ever had an orgasm, Katie?”
Blood rushed to my cheeks. I would never admit it to anyone else, but after watching him pleasure himself, I wasn’t ashamed to tell him. “Yes, I have.”
His face changed, a lightning storm raged in his eyes, and he clenched his fists at his sides. “How? With whom?” He said the words through his teeth, demanding details.
A possessive hand landed on my hip, his fingers pressing into my skin, as if to say, Your orgasms are mine. It was the truth. He was the only man I’d ever wanted.
Fury surged in his voice, and he pushed for an answer. “You will tell me now.”
“Fingers,” I blurted. “Mine.”
His grip relaxed, jealousy receding from his eyes. His gaze then swept over me with adoration and lust. “Masturbation doesn’t count, baby.”
The term of endearment, combined with the deep timbre of his voice, sent bolts of electricity through my veins. Every nerve ending in my body was on high alert.
“Your first is mine. Spread your legs.”
It was happening. He had no intention of losing what was his.
Thomas put my back to the tiles, commanding me to do as he’d ordered, and used his knee to open my legs wider. He ran his fingers along the elastic of my sleep shorts, teasing me, tugging at the fabric.
“You’ll surrender to me. My name will be the only thing you remember. You’ll cry it aloud when you come. But only after you’ve begged me, writhing in sweet agony, will I allow it.” He kissed me, nipping at my bottom lip as he pushed his hand into my shorts.
As he dragged his fingers from my entrance to my clit, the world spun with vivid color, no numbers, no math.
“Christ, you’re already quite wet,” he said, his voice gravelly.
With one fluid motion, he plunged a finger inside me, making me gasp with surprise and ecstasy. He slid his finger in and out, testing my capacity. He slid out for a moment, returning again with two fingers.
“Oh my God,” I moaned, hardly able to form words.
Is this what it would be like to have him inside me?
I’d pleasured myself before, but never like this. I’d never ventured lower than my clit.
“This is mine,” he growled into my ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth.
“Yes,” I replied huskily. It was all I could manage.
He smirked as he trailed hot kisses along my jaw, down my neck, making circles with his thumb while his fingers moved in and out.
My orgasm was building like a tsunami wave rushing to shore. I reached out for him, desperate to find purchase. So desperate.
“Stay put,” he commanded. “No hands.”
I was free-falling out of control. I needed to dig my fingers into his skin. I wanted to scratch and clench and flex. Pleasure coursed through my body, rising, rising. But then he slowed, killing me with want as he withheld my release.
I was on the edge of a cliff, begging him to let me fly. “Don’t stop. Thomas, please.”
He kissed me, teasing me with his tongue, sliding his fingers out of me, taking away the warmth of his hand. He moved my body so that my back was in the corner. “Hands above your shoulders.”
I obeyed, raising my arms, my knuckles resting against the tiles on either side of my head. “Take me,” I pleaded.
Thomas kissed my neck, sucking as he moved his mouth down, pausing to tug on my nipple with his teeth, biting through the clinging fabric. Taking his time, sending me to the brink, he lowered onto his knees, kissing my stomach as he tugged down my shorts, and then ordered me to step out of them once they hit the shower floor.
Placing my leg over his shoulder, he buried his face between my thighs, kissing gently at first, bringing the orgasm closer again. His tongue ran along my seam, propelling me into the stratosphere. I couldn’t take it. It was coming on too fast. He licked and tasted, parted my folds with a groan, and plunged his tongue inside while thumbing circles over my clit again. And then he replaced his thumb with his tongue, pressing hard, circling, pressing, his fingers inside me again.
It was a heaven I’d never experienced. I squeezed my eyes shut, and stars formed behind my lids. I was falling through space, floating weightless into oblivion. I might have died as my climax rose higher and washed over me in a delicious rush, my body convulsing.
“Thomas,” I cried. No other words, only his name existed for me, just as he’d warned.
He stood and gathered me in his arms as my knees failed. “That’s right, baby. You belong to me.”
Giving me a minute to catch my breath, he kissed my temple, my forehead, the tip of my nose. Then, as though I weighed nothing at all, he swept me up and carried me to bed.
Amazingly spent, I didn’t register him removing my wet top or wrapping me up inside the quilt. His arms were just there, so strong, holding me, his warm breath on my neck. My mind and my body drifted into a heavy lull.
When the sunshine woke me, the last thing I could recall was his soft promise.
“I’ll be back soon, Katie. I will always come back.”