“Chloe,” he said. It came out rough and low and heated. He was facing away from me, his head tilted down, arms stretching out to press against the wall.
I reached out with one hand, brushing lightly with my fingertips, and ran it along his spine. His back was strong and muscled, muscles that shifted under his skin as I touched him. Freckles on his shoulders, a tiny scar on his left side just above his narrow waist. I kissed it, and he groaned. “Chloe,” he repeated, his hands now curling into fists as his entire body thrummed with tension.
“Yes,” I replied. He turned slowly, water dripping down through his gorgeous hair, his eyes burning as they traveled over my naked body. I didn’t flinch under his gaze; his stare made me bold, and I arched my back and let him look.
“You don’t need to do this,” he said, looking for any sign of me backing away or changing my mind.
“You’re wrong,” I murmured, stepping into the spray, stepping into him, pressing my chest against his and burying my hands in the back of his head. “I absolutely need to do this.”
As my lips neared his, I met his eyes, his gaze heating me through and telling me that yes, this was absolutely the best idea ever. I knew I could sneak a kiss, pretend to be confused because of the emotions of the evening, and he’d let me get away with it. I knew this would complicate things; I knew this would make it impossible to go back to what we had before. But I didn’t want what we had before. I wanted, hell, I needed more. I instinctively ran in the opposite direction, and brought his mouth to mine.
Soft, incredibly soft lips brushed against mine once, twice, and then again. I sighed into his mouth as his hands settled on my hips. I could kiss this man for a year. He stepped between my legs, pushing me toward the back of the shower, and I moaned against his lips, feeling the length of his body pressing into mine as I twisted to feel more of him, needing as many points of contact as I could get.
I delighted in the feel of lips on mine, his mouth teasing at my own as my hands roamed in his hair. “Do you have any idea,” I said as our kiss broke and he tilted my head back to press his mouth against my neck, “how much I love your hair? I never told you, but gingers make me crazy.” I groaned as he sucked at the skin below my ear. “The second I saw you, I thought, this is the sexiest man I have ever seen.” I pressed wet kisses against his collarbone.
He ran his hands up and down my back. “The first time I saw you, at that restaurant, I knew I wanted to see you naked. As soon as possible.”
“And here I am,” I murmured, stepping back so he could take a good look. “Naked.”
His eyes smoldered as his gaze swept across my body. “Chloe,” he whispered. “You’re perfection.”
I purred, I actually purred, dragging my hands down his torso, over the defined muscles in his chest, the tiny little hairs that gathered there. Letting my gaze follow my hands, I decided to sneak a peek as well. “Mmm, and you’re—holy sweet fuck, are you kidding me?”
Here’s the thing about an enormous penis. They don’t just live in romance novels. They don’t just live on famous actors, although John Hamm and Michael Fassbender need to admit a certain ginger vet into their Big Cock Club. They’re real. And they’re out there. Right here, even, in my guest shower.
For every peanut, there is an eggplant. For every Charles, there is a Lucas. And since I’d had one, I feel I deserved the other.
My “Holy sweet fuck, are you kidding me?” still ricocheted off the tiles, bouncing off his shocked face.
“Pardon me?” he finally said, his hands frozen on my hips, his lips still halfway down my neck.
“Sorry. Actually, not sorry. Actually, congratulations.” I pointed down. “This is kind of amazing.”
He threw his head back and laughed out loud. “My dick is amazing?”
“Oh, please, like you don’t know. You’re bigger than a breadbox!”
“Baby’s arm.”
“Huh?”
“Bigger than a baby’s arm, that’s the phrase.”
“That’s gross! What does that have to do with a—stop laughing at me!”
He didn’t stop laughing, but he did start kissing my neck again. Which normally would have been enough to make me surrender to the sizzle running wild through my veins, but I literally couldn’t take my eyes off it . . . er . . . him.
“I don’t even think that’ll fit,” I said.
“Oh, it’ll fit,” he murmured, then pulled away. “Wait—are we . . . talking about . . . fitting?”
“If you think we can. Seriously, Lucas—you’re huge.”
“Seriously, Chloe, you’re awesome. Will you walk around behind me with a megaphone from now on?”
“Quiet, you,” I said, bringing him back to my mouth for another searing kiss. Every single thought went out of my head, which was filled up instantly with Lucas. Here. Now. Hot and heavy and wanting.
I focused on this moment, this gorgeous man and his delightful tongue that was thrusting inside my mouth, mating with mine and making my breath come even more quickly.
My mouth opened wider, trying to bring as much of him inside me as I could. My urgency was matched by his own, his hands pressing into my skin, strong and sure, each finger on a different part of my spine, nails embedded, fiery and wicked strong. I broke the kiss just so I could breathe, only to be sucked back down in another wave of need, stronger than the last.