“Believe it. I’ll do it again too.”
“Sam...”
She sprayed him again.
“Samantha.”
Again, and she could have sworn he smiled as he crossed the bathroom, reaching out toward her watery weapon even though he was trying to give her his very best angry eyebrows. “No!” she shrieked, spraying him the whole time he was advancing on her. He grabbed her arm and spun her so that she was locked against his chest, facing away from him. And then she was unceremoniously disarmed, held captive against his wet chest, the sprayer against her breasts.
“You wouldn’t,” she said.
“You did.”
“But I’m mean. And you’re usually not.”
“Nah, baby,” he said, his voice low, resonating in his chest, vibrating against her back and sending a million little sparks through her body, “I’m a mean son of a bitch. And don’t you forget it.”
“You are not.” She wiggled, her butt coming into contact with what was either a hard belt buckle or...or...oh my. She wiggled some more, not so much to get free as toidentify just what all was hard back there. Because no matter how much sheshouldn’twant him to be hard against her ass, she kind of wanted him to be hard.
He flipped the diverter on the sprayer and a shot of cold water hit her between her breasts. “Dammit!”
“I told you.”
“But I didn’t believe you!”
“You pushed me.”
“Yeah, well, you could use a little push, Jace,” she said, pushing her butt against him again. “Lord knows you don’t get challenged enough.”
“You don’t think?” he asked, his hold tightening on her, bringing him harder up against her ass and no, that was not a belt buckle.
“No,” she said, her throat tight.
Good. Lord. Jace was hard for her. And what was she supposed to do now?
Ride him like you’re not saddle sore!
Her inner hedonist was quick with an answer, while that ever more cautious part of herself whispered “doom” on a low hum in the background.
He lifted his hand, his thumb and forefinger bracketing her jaw, and he turned her head gently, so she could meet his eyes. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.
All she could do was want. She’d wanted him before, but not this badly and not when he was standing so close.
It was a recipe for disaster. Or tasty physical cake...
No. Disaster.
But he was looking at her, and his fingers were rough against her skin. Masculine. It had been a long time since a man had touched her. It had been...neversince it had excited her so much. His jaw looked...scratchy. A full day’s growth on his skin, dark and...and rough...and masculine.She’d thought all those adjectives already. But it’s because they were so true.
He pulled her closer, one arm still partly around her front and holding the sprayer, his cock getting harder at her back.
She couldn’t help it. She moved against him. Not an accidental wiggle. A full-on, intentional arch against him. Oh. Yes.
And then her lips parted, her eyes dropping to his.
Kiss me. Please kiss me.
And her silent prayer went answered.
