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him. Xavier wedged his shoulder against the doorjamb and waited,
listening for any sound of distress on the other side of the door. When
the soft splash followed by a tired sigh reached him, he released his
own gust of breath. And relaxed.
Listening to the muffled sounds of her bathing became a form
of exquisite torture. Thanks to her illness, Xavier knew exactly what
awaited in the other room. The forced intimacy had stripped away
barriers of modesty. He d felt like an animal lusting after her lovely
body even as fever had raged through it. Of course he hadn t sunk so
low on the moral barometer that he d have molested her, but it would
have taken an act of God to keep him from imagining those luscious
curves writhing under him in a heat not associated with illness.
Snorting with disgust, Xavier grasped the knob, twisted it, and
entered the bathroom again.
 Dammit, Xavier! Gwendolyn gasped. A splash and a glimpse of
smooth brown shoulders was all he caught before she disappeared be-
neath the rippling surface of the water. As if her hands and the small
square cloth he d left for her to bathe with would be able to hide her
body from him if he stepped up to the tub s edge.
Shit. He stifled a moan and wheeled around toward the counter.
His heart and cock throbbed from that brief flash of flesh alone. She
had been in his home sick for three days. Sick, you perverted POS.
Yes, she was on the mend, but she remained as weak as a newborn
foal. Gwendolyn needed care, not out-of-control lust. He inhaled and
willed the arousal away. Good. He exhaled, the breath slow and even.
It s all goo Fuck, he wanted her. He closed his eyes, grabbed the
shampoo bottle, and held on to it as if it were the last life jacket on the
Titanic.
 Calm down, Gwen, he said soothingly, tightening his fingers
around the bottle. Hello, kettle. I m pot.  I m just going to wash your
hair. Opening his eyes, the gaze that met his in the mirror gleamed
bright green with desire and anticipation. The shadows of fear and
longing for something other than her body that lurked behind the
arousal he ignored those. He turned with the shampoo in hand and
faced her glare.
 I can wash my own hair, she objected, drawing her knees to her
chest and encircling them tight.
30
Naima Simone
 You could, he agreed and settled his hip on the wide lip of the
tub.  But I m going to.
 Fascist, she snapped as he flicked the cap up and poured a large
dollop of the clear, vanilla-scented soap in his palm.
Xavier snorted and shifted into a more comfortable position.
 That s not what you called me two nights ago. He leaned for-
ward, removed the cloth band she d use to constrain her hair in a high
ponytail, and drizzled the shampoo onto the thick strands.  Then I
was Jesus.
 I did not  But her protest morphed into a long, satisfied moan.
He smiled and continued the firm massage of her scalp and hair that
had cut off her vehement protest.  Oh my God, that feels good. The
smile dipped from his lips as he conjured images of her uttering the
same words, except arching over him as she took his cock in her pussy.
Or of him savoring the same sweet flesh.
 Xavier?
The soft voice dragged him back to the present. His fingers had
stilled midstroke, and Gwendolyn stared at him over her shoulder.
 Sorry, he murmured, even that one word husky with thoughts
of having her wet, tight sex surrounding him and the sugary spice of
her on his tongue.  Lean your head back so I can rinse the shampoo
out.
As he stood and removed the detachable showerhead from its an-
chor, Gwendolyn snickered.
 I didn t really call you Jesus, did I?
He couldn t prevent the grin from stretching his lips any more
than he could have tamped down his lust for her. Water poured from
the spigots again in a thunderous rush before he twisted another knob
and it switched to a steady stream from the showerhead. He passed
his fingers under the water to test its warmth. Satisfied with the tem-
perature, he then lifted the nozzle to Gwendolyn s hair. The honey-
colored strands darkened to caramel under the spray, and the loose
curls tightened into the corkscrews that had always fascinated him.
Still did.
 Yes,  fraid so. He would have added that she d also poked his
chest and called him a lumpy but warm blanket as she d burrowed
closer to him. But that would involve explaining that he d slept in the
bed with her. Yeah, not the best time to bring that up.  I don t see why
that surprises you, he added, setting the showerhead on the side of
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Loving the Beast
the tub.  I delivered your sweet ass out of so many scrapes when you
were younger, I might as well be your savior.
Her laughter bounced off the tiled walls.  You re exaggerating,
Xavier. I wasn t that bad. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]