wanted to, princess.” But his hand moved to her cheek so gently she wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth.
She hoped when he sobered up he never called her that again. She pulled at his t-shirt and got it off, and what she found underneath was utterly amazing. Every muscle on his torso was defined. His body was full of ridges. He had absolutely no body fat. She could count his ribs and his abs. His skin was as tan as hers, and his chest was sprinkled with dark hairs.
He didn’t interrupt her, he allowed her to stare. He even enjoyed it, and smiled; not that she would notice. Her eyes were didn’t leave his chest. He leaned back against the tub and watched her. Her beauty was beyond compare. He’d never met a woman like her. Her tan skin and long dark wavy hair should not be paired with the brightest, bluest eyes. She had the most adorable button nose, and round cheeks. And the one time he saw her smile, as she stood in the doorway of his shared bedroom, he had been bewitched.
”My pants,” he finally said, pulling her out of her daze.
“What?” She jumped when he said it.
He chuckled. “Pull off my pants,” he repeated. He lifted his hips to make it easier on her. She bit her lip again. He shivered when he saw it. He wanted to kiss her so badly, really kiss her, but not now. He must smell horrible; he’d been drinking all day, he smoked half a dozen cigarettes which he’d given up years ago, and he ate two dozen Buffalo wings. What he wouldn’t give for a breath mint.
Her hands moved in slow motion toward the waist band of his pants. She would encounter his skin, tight over his many large muscles. She steadied herself, and reached down. “Oh, God,” she groaned as she touched him. He was so warm, and his skin was so soft. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she yanked at his sweatpants. She pulled, and tugged, and finally got them off without looking.
He never let anyone undress him. He liked to be in control, he liked to do the tearing and ripping of clothing. But he was getting a hell of a lot of pleasure from watching her fawn over and struggle with his big body.
Her eyes were still closed as he said, “Now my underwear.”
“No!” She protested loudly.
“Just kidding, I’m not wearing any.” He laughed when she turned away from him. “No, really, I’m wearing boxers. Cover as much as swimming trunks, honestly.”
“You’re lying,” she challenged.
“No, I’m not. I’m being completely truthful.” He chuckled as she handed him a hand towel.
“Put this over yourself.” Then she turned on the water, and adjusted the temperature.
He covered himself with the towel before she turned on the shower head, and she handed him a wash cloth and a miniature soap and closed the curtain. “You can’t even see me now,” he sighed. When a noise of complete frustration escaped her lips he laughed again.
She stormed out of the bathroom and slammed the door, only to find Jordan sitting on the edge of his bed. He had to have heard everything. At least she didn’t say anything that would make him angry, although she thought a few that would probably make him never speak to her again.
“Why didn’t you help me,” she accused, and flung herself onto her bed in a huff.
“I have a thing, about…” He didn’t look up at her, and he didn’t have his computer on his lap. His palms rubbed his thighs obsessively, and his head was down. “In jail, in the shower…”
She became still. She didn’t want to say, or do, anything to upset him more. But she saw that his shoulders flexed, and she knew he was crying again. She climbed into the floor, fell down beside him, and laid her head in his lap.
How had the three of them ended up together? Three scared and broken misfits united by fate, but for what purpose? Why was she, the woman whose sister’s rape had caused her to mistrust all men, been placed with these two men who had both been raped themselves? What were the odds?
And she could say
She hoped when he sobered up he never called her that again. She pulled at his t-shirt and got it off, and what she found underneath was utterly amazing. Every muscle on his torso was defined. His body was full of ridges. He had absolutely no body fat. She could count his ribs and his abs. His skin was as tan as hers, and his chest was sprinkled with dark hairs.
He didn’t interrupt her, he allowed her to stare. He even enjoyed it, and smiled; not that she would notice. Her eyes were didn’t leave his chest. He leaned back against the tub and watched her. Her beauty was beyond compare. He’d never met a woman like her. Her tan skin and long dark wavy hair should not be paired with the brightest, bluest eyes. She had the most adorable button nose, and round cheeks. And the one time he saw her smile, as she stood in the doorway of his shared bedroom, he had been bewitched.
”My pants,” he finally said, pulling her out of her daze.
“What?” She jumped when he said it.
He chuckled. “Pull off my pants,” he repeated. He lifted his hips to make it easier on her. She bit her lip again. He shivered when he saw it. He wanted to kiss her so badly, really kiss her, but not now. He must smell horrible; he’d been drinking all day, he smoked half a dozen cigarettes which he’d given up years ago, and he ate two dozen Buffalo wings. What he wouldn’t give for a breath mint.
Her hands moved in slow motion toward the waist band of his pants. She would encounter his skin, tight over his many large muscles. She steadied herself, and reached down. “Oh, God,” she groaned as she touched him. He was so warm, and his skin was so soft. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she yanked at his sweatpants. She pulled, and tugged, and finally got them off without looking.
He never let anyone undress him. He liked to be in control, he liked to do the tearing and ripping of clothing. But he was getting a hell of a lot of pleasure from watching her fawn over and struggle with his big body.
Her eyes were still closed as he said, “Now my underwear.”
“No!” She protested loudly.
“Just kidding, I’m not wearing any.” He laughed when she turned away from him. “No, really, I’m wearing boxers. Cover as much as swimming trunks, honestly.”
“You’re lying,” she challenged.
“No, I’m not. I’m being completely truthful.” He chuckled as she handed him a hand towel.
“Put this over yourself.” Then she turned on the water, and adjusted the temperature.
He covered himself with the towel before she turned on the shower head, and she handed him a wash cloth and a miniature soap and closed the curtain. “You can’t even see me now,” he sighed. When a noise of complete frustration escaped her lips he laughed again.
She stormed out of the bathroom and slammed the door, only to find Jordan sitting on the edge of his bed. He had to have heard everything. At least she didn’t say anything that would make him angry, although she thought a few that would probably make him never speak to her again.
“Why didn’t you help me,” she accused, and flung herself onto her bed in a huff.
“I have a thing, about…” He didn’t look up at her, and he didn’t have his computer on his lap. His palms rubbed his thighs obsessively, and his head was down. “In jail, in the shower…”
She became still. She didn’t want to say, or do, anything to upset him more. But she saw that his shoulders flexed, and she knew he was crying again. She climbed into the floor, fell down beside him, and laid her head in his lap.
How had the three of them ended up together? Three scared and broken misfits united by fate, but for what purpose? Why was she, the woman whose sister’s rape had caused her to mistrust all men, been placed with these two men who had both been raped themselves? What were the odds?
And she could say
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