She groans. “Wilder, I’m tired. And I’m clean, really.”
“Almost done.” I turn her and rinse off the conditioner, watching as the suds trickle down her smooth back and round ass.
I run my hands over it again, fingers slipping betweenthose cheeks and then reaching her slick pussy. She groans in pleasure. “Wilder.” It’s a tortured breath. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can, or you wouldn’t be so wet now, would you? One more, baby.”
She grins over her shoulder.
“Hands on the tile.”
She does as I say and rocks against my touch. I rub circles against her clit, applying pressure.
“Oooh,” she breathes, her head falling back.
“That’s it.”
She rocks faster. “Oh God, Wilder.”
“Let me hear you scream.”
She opens her mouth, and I cover it with mine, swallowing the moans I’ve become addicted to.
ThewomanI’ve become addicted to.
I turn off the water and dry her off, then wrap her in a clean robe. Her lips curve into a grin, satisfied and amused as she watches me.
I thought she was stunning before, but the way she’s looking up at me now .?.?. it’s enough to ruin a man.
Rose knocked out in minutes after I settled her in bed.
Closing the drapes, I leave her alone for a while and step out to the living room.
I check my phone for any messages from Dallas.
He’s on edge about tomorrow, when we meet Ellie and her grandfather, Cole, at the hospital.
He said he doesn’t want anyone with him. But Dad and I are both going. Hell, if anything, it would be good for Mr. Hartly to see that Dallas has help and support. Albeit, there’s no female tobe a mother figure—unless you count Ginger—but we’ll take care of that little girl like our blood runs through her.
And it sure as hell looks like it does.
I had my doubts about how Dallas would take it, but that visit changed my brother. Woke him up.
Butwhathappensifsheisn’t his?
Will he go back to being no good to anyone? Least of all himself?
Rose’s phone rings, and I curse. It’s the second time it’s rung since she’s been asleep. I lift it off the counter to silence it.
Willow.
This is the friend that checks on her daily. I should probably let her know she’s all right.
Tired and hurting, thanks to me .?.?. but all right.
“Rose’s phone,” I answer.
“Oh, um, hi.” The voice sounds feminine but mature. “You’re not Wesley.”
