er. As I rinse off the shampoo, I
feel his hands on me, soaping my body: my shoulders, my
arms, under my arms, my breasts, my back. Gently he
turns me around and pulls me against him as he continues
down my body: my stomach, my belly, his skilled fingers
between my legs—hmm—my behind. Oh, that feels good
and so intimate. He turns me around to face him again.
“Here,” he says quietly, handing me the body wash. “I
“Here,” he says quietly, handing me the body wash. “I
want you to wash off the remains of the lipstick.”
My eyes open in a flurry and dart quickly to his. He’s
staring at me intently, soaking wet and beautiful, his
glorious, bright gray eyes giving nothing away.
“Don’t stray far from the line, please,” he mutters
tightly.
“Okay,” I murmur, trying to absorb the enormity of
what he’s just asked me to do—to touch him on the edge
of the forbidden zone.
I squeeze a small amount of soap on my hand, rub my
hands together to create a lather, then place them on his
shoulders and gently wash away the line of lipstick on each
side. He stills and closes his eyes, his face impassive, but
he’s breathing rapidly, and I know it’s not lust but fear. It
cuts me to the quick.
With trembling fingers, I carefully follow the line down
the side of his chest, soaping and rubbing softly, and he
swallows, his jaw tense as if his teeth are clenched. Oh!
My heart constricts and my throat tightens. Oh no, I’m
My heart constricts and my throat tightens. Oh no, I’m
going to cry.
I stop to add more soap to my hand and feel him relax
in front of me. I can’t look up at him. I can’t bear to see
his pain—it’s too much. I swallow.
“Ready?” I murmur and the tension is loud and clear in
my voice.
“Yes,” he whispers, his voice husky, laced with fear.
Gently, I place my hands on either side of his chest,
and he freezes again.
It’s too much. I am overwhelmed by his trust in me—
overwhelmed by his fear, by the damage done to this
beautiful, fallen, flawed man.
Tears pool in my eyes and spill down my f
本章未完，点击下一页继续阅读。