“I’d say don’t do anything we wouldn’t do, but that doesn’t leave much to avoid,” Eliot calls out after us.
I glance back. Even Stone’s smiling.
Great. My love life, or lack thereof, is now the running joke. “You don’t have to escort me to bed.”
“I told you, you’re not going anywhere alone until we know you’re safe and secure.” His teasing tone only adds to the insult.
I’m not a damn child. But if I stomp my foot and refuse to let him “take me to bed,” I’ll look and sound like one. I’m tempted to do it anyway. When I finally get to the bathroom, my shoulders scream when I try to remove my shirt. Tears run down my cheeks, not from the soreness but because of everything else. Someone is after me. I have a house full of alpha men trying to control my business—a business I built from scratch, and they are pushing me aside.
My eyelids are as heavy as the knot in my gut. I pop the button on my jeans and lower the zipper. At least I can do that much. I slide my paint-splattered pants over my hips, bending forward to push them down my calves. I lose my balance in my sad attempt to get one foot free. The room spins, then I smack my head into the door and fall to the tile with a cry of pain.
“Amy?” Tyler cracks the door open, and I gaze up at him from the floor. “Oh, baby. Let me help you.”
Embarrassment gives me the energy to swipe the tears from my face. “I don’t need help. I don’t need anything or anyone. Just go away.”
He pulls me to stand. “This shirt’s old, right?”
I nod.
He flicks out his pocket knife and slices it down the front. I gasp, but he’s already turning me, releasing the clasp on my old bra. Definitely not the sexy stuff I used to wear to the club. He reaches around me and turns on the water in my tiny shower, my bare back pressed to his T-shirt-covered chest. A shiver runs through me, but I’m not cold. Icy water teases my toes, and I shift the bathmat to catch the overspray.
Tyler grasps the sides of my panties, his fingers between the silky fabric and my skin. The elastic at my back is taut, threatening to snap. He bends his knees, his soft breath trailing down over my skin. His warm knuckles graze my hips and thighs. Cool air washes over my bared pussy. “Step out.”
The deep, demanding timbre of his voice causes my core to clench. I lift each foot, bracing my hand on his strong shoulder. He tosses my underwear to the side and raises around me like a storm, all electricity and tension. I’m completely bare in front of him for the first time. Heat flares from my core to my neck. His shirt lands at my feet.
Wait. What’s happening?
Is he getting naked too?
I give him a panicked glance.
“Just going to help you wash,” he says in a low voice as if I’m a skittish kitten. “I couldn’t fit in that shower with you if I tried.” His gentle tone quells my discomfort a tiny bit. He’s not making this weird. Well, not weirder than it already is to have my ex-Dom, the former FBI agent assigned to my case, stripping me naked to bathe me. I duck my head into the now warm spray, but it’s still cooler than my face. I’m not sure what he expects.
“Turn.”
I instantly obey.
His bare chest is perfectly sculpted. A tiny bit of gray highlights the dusting of light brown hair across his pecs, trailing down to his well-worn jeans strained at the zipper by his clearly hard cock. I bite my bottom lip. I’ve seen him like this, but not barefoot, wearing black leather instead of faded denim. I’m not sure which is sexier. Both. Either. Yes, please.
He glides a mesh ball lathered with body wash over my shoulders and down my arms. Slowly, he works his way to my breasts, circling them. I whimper from the ache that’s been building for days. I can’t help but react to the most attractive man I know—one who knows how to command me, dominate me exactly the way I crave—being so tender and caring for my every need. It’s a fantasy. True for this single moment only.
I might be lying to myself.
His hand stops a millimeter above my pussy. “Turn around.”
His voice is gruff. His cock still hard. This is affecting him just as much. He scrubs my back, kneels, and moves up my legs, nudging them apart. My breath comes in pants. I’m as wet as this shower.
Can he tell?
He stops again before touching me where I want him. With the scrubby, he glides over each globe of my ass, thoroughly cleaning every part of me while ignoring where I need him most. I bite back a command, knowing he’ll only make me suffer longer.
When he grabs the shampoo and massages it into my scalp, I nearly cry with want. I’d settle for his fingers. Any orgasm I don’t give myself. But he’s taking his time with my hair and defusing the intensity of the ache I have for him through my entire body. I soften.
“Good girl.” He turns me and tilts my head under the water, rinsing away the soap with one hand and holding me in place with the other. Finished, I expect him to turn off the water, but he’s on his knees again. I reach for his bare shoulder as he lifts my foot to his thigh, opening me. Exposing me.
“I shouldn’t reward you for ignoring me when I told you to wait.” The breath of his words floats across my heated opening, teasing me.
It would be so easy to let him finger me or tongue me to ecstasy. I want to say yes, but if I do…
