Sheltering His Desire by Allyson Lindt Page A

rested a hand at the back of
her neck. Lilacs teased him, and her warm skin against his palm
jerked his senses to life. He brushed his lips over hers. “I was
thinking this time, you join me in the shower.”
    Tomorrow. He’d walk away tomorrow.

Chapter
Eleven
    They shed their clothes quickly between
Alyssia’s office, and the bathroom. When she bent over to turn on
the water, Tate glided a hand up her thigh, and over her ass,
cupping the cheek.
    She sighed and leaned into him, pressing her
bare back against his chest. She wouldn’t linger on how right this
all felt, just on how good. He drew his palm up her stomach, and
between her breasts, though he never touched them. He rested his
hand at the base of her neck, and held her tight. Every touch was
another claim staked on her skin. Another searing mark holding them
together.
    He drew back the shower curtain and nudged
her into the tub. Seconds later, he stood behind her again, as the
hot water sluiced over them. She reached behind her to grab the
hard length pressing into her butt.
    He grabbed her wrist with a, “Tsk,” and then
kissed up the side of her neck, lips vibrating against her skin.
“Patience.”
    She ground against him, satisfied when his
erection jerked in response. “I’ll try.”
    He reached over her shoulder, grabbed the
body wash, and poured a generous dollop into his hand before
setting the bottle back on its shelf. A shock of cold raced over
her when he rested his hand on her stomach again, and she
squeaked.
    “Sorry.” He sounded anything but. “I guess we
need to warm it up.” He drew his palms over her skin. Up her chest,
down her thighs, everywhere but the bits of her aching to be
touched. She gasped when he trailed along the back of her legs,
behind the knees, and groaned when he slipped over the insides of
her wrists. With her entire body begging to be touched, new
erogenous zones spread everywhere. She cried out when he finally
cupped her breasts, and a new spark of pleasure filled her.
    “God, I love your tits.” His grip slid over
her skin. “Gorgeous, pink nipples. Perky.” He squeezed, and she
squirmed in pleasure. “Sensitive.” He kept one hand on her chest,
and the other slipped lower. “But this.” He pushed between her
folds. “What do you sound like when you’re not worried about
someone hearing you scream when you come?”
    She swayed her hips against his touch.
“You’re welcome to find out.”
    He pulled away from her clit. “I was hoping
you’d say that.” He moved both hands to cup her ass, and slid a
finger between her thighs. Soap slithered down her skin, pooled at
her feet, and then washed down the drain.
    He reached over her, and grabbed the shower
head. “I’ve always wondered, if you get the full enjoyment out of
this.”
    Embarrassment and a new level of arousal
pulsed between her legs. She fought the desire to confess he was
frequently the focus of those fantasies. “I might.”
    He moved the head along her skin, letting the
water flow over her, and rinse away the soap. He nudged one of her
legs forward with his knee, and brought the shower head to rest
between her thighs. “God, I’d like to watch that sometime.”
    The idea of putting on a show for Tate pooled
in her belly, tugging at some of her more vivid fantasies of him
walking in on her. With the water pounding against her clit, his
other hand still sliding between her legs from behind, and the
vivid pictures in her mind, orgasm threatened her senses.
    He pulled away before she climaxed. “Not
yet.” He whispered.
    She liked this teasing. She took the
showerhead from him, replaced it, and filled her own palm with
soap. “Your turn.” She whirled to face him.
    He raised his brows. “What did you have in
mind?”
     
    “It’s a shower. So, getting clean.” She tried
to repeat what he’d done just a few moments ago. Soaping over his
chest, up his legs, everywhere but his stiff shaft.
    He leaned a hand on the tile, and lowered