Colters' Woman - Page 13/29

He reached for her hands then pulled them high above her head, pressing her against the shower wall. The water coursed over them both as he bent his head to kiss her.

His hard body covered hers, rocked against her with the promise of what was to come.

She tried to pull one of her hands away. She wanted to touch him. But he kept them locked above her.

His cock nudged her soft belly as his mouth burned an erotic trail down the curve of her neck.

Then he let her go.

“Turn around,” he commanded.

She turned her body until her back was nestled against his chest. He reached around her for the bar of soap and lathered it on his hands.

He started at her stomach, kneading and softly soaping. Then he worked his way up to her breasts, cupping them in his hands, rolling the nipples between his fingers.

She moaned and leaned further back into him.

His right hand smoothed back down her skin, down to her pelvis. He rubbed lightly then slid his hand between her legs. With his left hand, he continued his attentions on her breasts, but his right hand burrowed further between her legs, sliding, teasing, spreading her folds.

She writhed against him, tension building in her body, stretching her impossibly.

Then his finger slid over her clit and her legs spasmed and threatened to fold on her.

Without warning, his hands left her, and she felt herself being pushed belly first against the wall of the shower as water continued to rain down on them.

The wall felt cool, the water felt hot, and her body trembled in anticipation as she felt him spread her legs.

Again, he raised her hands above her head and continued to nudge her legs apart with his thigh. She felt his cock brush against her ass then settle between her legs. With his knee, he propped her ass up enough to position himself at her pussy opening.

Then he plunged deeply inside her, rocking her against the tile wall.

Oh God, he was so deep. He felt so good. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against the shower.

“Keep your hands up,” he choked out as he let his own hands fall from hers.

She obeyed, keeping them above her head, pressed firmly against the walls. He positioned his hands at her hips, lifting her higher, holding her in place as he plunged again and again.

It was hot. It was hard to breathe. She’d never felt such exquisite pleasure.

Her ass rested against his hard abdomen, his cock seated as deeply within her as he could go. Still she wanted more. He slowly withdrew, pushing forward, retreating before easing forward once more.

She bit her lip to keep from screaming out at the delicious agony. She felt poised to burst, and yet he wouldn’t allow it with his deliberate movements. He could send her spiraling over the edge at any second and yet he delayed, opting to instead enjoy a slow, leisurely pace.

One hand gripped her hip, and the other stole around, slipping between her legs. He found her clit and began working it in a circular motion as he fucked back and forth behind her.

“Ethan!” she cried out.

“Easy, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Not yet. Not yet.”

She wailed as he paused. She was so close. So damn close.

His hand left her pussy and moved up to her breasts. He lazily circled one nipple with his fingers, brushing them ever so softly across the puckered tip. She felt the twinge all the way to her core.

He moved to the other one, plumping her breast in his hand, thumbing the nipple, teasing her unmercifully.

“Please, Ethan,” she gasped out. “Let me come!”

He laughed softly. “You want it hard, sweetheart?”

“Oh God, yes, fuck me please!”

He plucked her nipples until they stood erect, stiff peaks, straining for more. Then he wrapped both hands around her hips and rocked against her, plunging deep, hard.

“Yes, yes!” she cried. She was getting close.

She closed her eyes and threw back her head. Her hands slid down the walls as he fucked her harder. The water turned cool and she didn’t care.

The slap of his hips against her ass filled the bathroom, the soft sucking noise made louder by the wetness of their bodies.

The buildup was nearly painful in its intensity. Fire raged in her groin and spread rapidly to her stomach and breasts. Every muscle in her body tightened and clenched.

“Let go, sweetheart, come with me,” Ethan growled in her ear.

He thrust harder, in the throes of his own release. She felt the hot jet of semen burst from his cock, and she fell right over the cliff into oblivion.

His arm curled around her, under her breasts, holding her up and against him so she wouldn’t fall. He was seated deeply within her, and her body shook with the force of her orgasm.

Her head lolled forward, sliding down the wet surface of the shower wall. She put out her hands to brace herself, her breath coming in heavy gasps.

They were going to kill her.

She felt him slide out of her, felt the warm rush of cum run down her legs. Then he lifted her, turned her around and held her close to his chest.

“I love you.”

The words murmured against her hair made her stiffen in surprise. Had she heard him correctly?

She pulled her head away and looked up into his eyes. They burned with desire, but they gleamed with something else. Love.

Thick emotion knotted in her throat. Tears burned her eyelids and threatened to spill over the rims. She didn’t know what to say, how to respond. But she knew he meant it.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, doll,” he said gently.

He washed her, tenderly covering every spot on her body. Then he shampooed her hair and rinsed it for her.

When he was finished, he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, reaching his hand back for her. He wrapped a big fluffy towel around her then hugged her to him, holding her tightly for several long seconds.

She felt ridiculously giddy, and yet hesitant. She felt compelled to return the sentiment, tell him she loved him too, but the words stuck in her throat. She wasn’t ready yet, wasn’t sure exactly of the depth of her feelings, and more than anything, she wanted to get this right.

Chapter Twelve

Holly felt deliciously sore and drowsy as she left the bathroom with Ethan. Love. He loved her. It didn’t seem possible even though he’d all but told her it would happen.

They joined the others in the kitchen where Adam was standing by the stove. Ryan sat on a barstool drinking a beer.

She walked over to Adam and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek on his back. He stiffened—in surprise?—for the briefest moment before turning around in her arms.

He smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head.

“You seem happy,” he said.

Her cheeks grew warm and a ridiculous smile attacked her face.

“I am.”

He tipped her chin up with his fingers then bent to kiss her. His lips moved possessively over hers. His tongue pressed inward, tasting her, laying claim to her mouth.

He slowly released her. “Have a seat. Supper will be ready in a few minutes.”

She floated over to where Ryan and Ethan sat and took the stool between them.

As Adam puttered around the kitchen, laying out the plates and glasses, Holly decided to broach the subject of her usefulness.

“I was thinking,” she began.

The men turned their attention to her.

“That is I was wondering what it is I could do to help out. I mean, if I’m not going to be a guest, that is, I’m going to stay.”

She took a deep breath and cursed her insecurity.

“Holly,” Ethan said, his tone slightly reprimanding. “We want you here. We want you to stay. This is your home. I realize it might take you a while to get used to things, but there is no need to dance around any subject, nor is there any need for you not to embrace your status here.”

She smiled and ducked her head. “At any rate, I wondered what I could do to help.”

“There’s always something that needs to be done,” Adam said with a shrug. “At present, we divide chores and responsibilities. We’d be glad to have the help.”

“I can’t cook,” she blurted, embarrassed by the admission. She felt hopelessly inadequate. Her upbringing hadn’t trained her to do much.

“No one said you had to cook,” Ryan said calmly.

“I could learn,” she added quickly.

Adam plunked down the platter of chicken fried steak on the bar and stared at her. “Holly, we don’t want a domestic slave. You’re here as our wife. Our mate. The mother of our children. We managed fine on our own. We can cook just fine. If you want to help out in other ways, I’m sure we can come up with something.”

Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “I’m making a mess of things, aren’t I?”

Adam sat down and passed the platter over to Ethan.

“You’re uptight,” Adam said gently. “We just want you to be happy. Relax. You don’t have to do anything right now. Let’s concentrate on freeing you from your current marriage so the bastard has no claim on you. Everything else will fall into place.”

“When do we go to Denver?” she asked, grateful to change the subject.

“Day after tomorrow. I’ve arranged for Riley to come in and feed the horses while we’re gone. We’ll drive down, check into a hotel, then see Cal the next morning.”

She nodded then cleared her throat. “I wonder if there would be time for me to hit a salon while we’re there?” She twirled the ends of her hair nervously with her fingers. “I’d like to get the color fixed.”

“We can do whatever you want,” Adam said.

“I also need to stop by a bank. I need to start an account so I can have funds wired in. I don’t trust Mason not to empty them.”

“You don’t have to worry about money,” Ryan said darkly. “We’re more than able to provide for you.”

“It’s not his money,” she said. “I’m not taking money from him. I’m protecting mine.”

“He seemed to be fairly wealthy,” Ethan said.

She sighed. “He is. But if he can find a way into my trust fund, he’ll empty it to spite me.”

Adam raised his brow. “Trust fund?”

“From my parents,” she explained. She shifted uncomfortably on her stool. “They were wealthy. They died when I was a teenager, and I came into my inheritance when I turned twenty-one.”

“I see, and how old are you now?” Adam asked.

“Twenty-four.”

“And when did you meet Mason?”

“Shortly after my parents died. He…well, he stepped in and took care of me.”

Ryan muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Ethan and Adam exchanged knowing glances.

“What? What are you looking like that for?” she demanded.

“Just how much money are we talking about in your trust fund?” Adam asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t really know.”

“Take a guess,” he said.

“Fifty? Sixty million?”

“Jesus,” Ethan muttered.

“How sure are you of Mason’s financial stability?” Adam asked quietly.

She opened her mouth but her reply stuttered and halted in her throat. Buzzing began in her head, and she felt incredibly, incredibly stupid. Her cheeks burned, and her throat constricted painfully.

Without another word, she got up and walked out of the kitchen.

“Holly!”

She heard Ethan call out to her, but she didn’t stop. She wanted to bear her current humiliation alone, thank you very much.

She stopped at the front door long enough to yank her coat off the coat rack then she opened the door and stepped onto the front porch. Cold air assaulted her, and she hurriedly pulled on her coat.

She walked to the railing and leaned out, staring at the rising moon over the snow. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply in. She needed the cold to cool her hot face.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. She’d never even considered Mason had an ulterior motive for singling her out. He’d stepped in when her parents died and acted as her protector and confidante. He’d pressured her to marry him when she turned twenty-one. Now she knew why. But she hadn’t wanted to marry right away. The only semblance of common sense she’d shown in the whole fiasco.

She propped her elbows on the porch railing and buried her face in her palms. He had only wanted her money.

It didn’t hurt that he didn’t love her, or that he had married her for other reasons. She knew he hadn’t been capable of loving her when he’d struck her, when he’d killed another person in cold blood. But what stung was her utter naiveté.

Of course he wanted her money. It all made perfect sense now. His preoccupation with “protecting” her, his endless questions about how she was managing her money. All in the guise of wanting to make sure she was taken care of. Thank God she hadn’t stayed around long enough to turn everything over to him as they had planned once they were married.

“Jesus, how stupid can I get?” she whispered. She’d been prepared to give him everything. He probably would’ve found a way to get rid of her inside of six months.