Wait! Wait!
HARDIN’S POV
The steam curled like silk around us, softening the edges of the world.
Water cascaded over her shoulders, trailing rivulets down her back, soaking her hair, turning her skin dewy and golden in the warm light. She stood beneath the rainfall showerhead, her head tilted back, eyes closed, lips parted slightly. The sight of her like that—bare, vulnerable, stunning—hit me like a punch to the chest.
I watched her for a moment, silently, taking her in.
And then, as if sensing me, she opened her eyes.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Our eyes locked through the haze of steam.
My breath stilled.
I stepped forward, letting the hot water drench me, my hands reaching out to touch her waist. She didn’t move—just looked at me like I was the only thing anchoring her to earth.
Then she reached up and dragged her fingers through my hair, tugging me closer.
When our mouths met, it wasn’t gentle.
It was need.
It was hunger.
It was all the unsaid things burning on our tongues and finding their only language in touch.
Her mouth was soft and fevered against mine, lips parting, tongue tangling with mine in a kiss that stole my thoughts clean. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her body flush against me—wet skin to wet skin, heat against heat.
And God, I couldn’t get enough of her.
I pressed her back against the marble wall, my hands moving instinctively—one sliding up her ribcage to cup her breast, the other splayed on her hip, holding her still. She gasped into my mouth as I squeezed gently, my thumb brushing over her nipple.
She whimpered.
My mouth left hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat, over her collarbone, lower still. I sucked her nipple into my mouth, tasting the water and her all at once. Her fingers tightened in my hair, her back arching as I circled my tongue around the sensitive peak and then switched to the other, lavishing it with equal attention.
She moaned—raw, breathy, desperate.
Her head fell back against the wall, exposing her throat like she trusted me to destroy her and still keep her whole.
I looked up at her, chest heaving.
Her eyes were glazed, lips kiss-bruised, cheeks flushed.
“Hardin…” she breathed.
I kissed my way back up to her mouth, and we lost ourselves in another kiss—slower this time, deeper. She tasted like mint and warm rain, like safety and sin.
When we broke apart, she was panting softly, her forehead pressed to mine.
“I need to make up for last night,” she whispered.
I frowned slightly, brushing her wet hair back from her face. “Ari, you don’t have to—”
But she was already dropping to her knees.
My breath caught.
She looked up at me, eyes dark and full of purpose. Her fingers wrapped around my cock—already hard, already aching for her—and she pressed a single, reverent kiss to the tip.
A strangled sound escaped me.
“Fuck…”
She smiled faintly. “You taste like trouble.”
And then her mouth opened, and my world shattered.
Her tongue swirled around the head slowly, deliberately, like she wanted to make me beg. And she could. God, she could. Her mouth was hot and wet and perfect. She sucked softly at first, teasing, and then deeper, taking more of me inch by inch.
I groaned hard, one hand flying to the back of her head, threading through her soaked hair.
Her rhythm built gradually—expert, torturous. Her lips sealed tight, her tongue flicking just right, the suction growing stronger with each pass. She moaned as she sucked, and the vibrations nearly undid me. My hips bucked forward instinctively, but she took it in stride, hollowing her cheeks, letting me feel every inch of that blissful pressure.
“Ari…” I panted, eyes rolling back. “Fuck—baby, you’re gonna kill me.”
She looked up at me with those dark, wicked eyes, her mouth still full of me, and moaned again.
Goddamn.
I was unraveling.
I could feel my control slipping, my body tight and burning, the pleasure coiling dangerously in my core. Every time I thought I couldn’t take more, she proved me wrong—licking, sucking, taking me deeper until I was damn near shaking.
My hand gripped her hair tighter.
I was right there.
Teetering.
Seconds from losing it.
“Wait,” I rasped. “Wait, wait, wait—”
And then—
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