Page 24 of Love Loathe Devotion (Tightrope #3)

The morning light is just starting to slip through the blinds, casting soft golden lines across the sheets, and the first thing I’m aware of is him.

His body is wrapped around mine, one arm slung low over my waist, the other tucked under my neck.

His chest is warm against my back, the slow rise and fall of his breathing steady and deep.

I shift slightly, and he responds without waking, pulling me closer with a sleepy groan, his nose nuzzling behind my ear.

I smile, eyes still closed, sinking deeper into the cocoon of his body and the scent of him—clean skin, faint soap, and something unmistakably Eddie. My thighs ache in the most delicious way, a lazy throb that reminds me of exactly what we did last night.

God, last night.

I turn slowly in his arms to face him, and the movement stirs him awake. His lashes flutter open, and those stormy eyes meet mine, still heavy with sleep and something darker.

“Mmm, morning,” he murmurs, voice all gravel and heat, already sending a pulse of awareness through me.

“Morning,” I whisper back, fingers brushing the scruff along his jaw. “You always look this smug in the morning, or is it just because you ruined me last night?”

That gets a slow, satisfied grin from him. “Definitely the second one.”

His lips find mine before I can respond—warm and lazy at first, brushing softly like he’s just testing the waters.

But I kiss him back and something shifts.

His hand slides up my side, pulling me in tighter, his mouth opening over mine with a deeper hunger.

The kiss turns hot, fast—tongues tangling, breathing quickening, hands wandering under the sheets.

I moan into his mouth as he rolls on top of me, hips settling between my thighs, already hard against me. My fingers dig into his back, body arching into his, needing more—

“I should get up,” I gasp against his lips, breathless and flushed.

“Should you?” he asks, one brow arching in mock challenge as he kisses my jaw, then my neck.

“Yes—Eddie—shower, life, coffee…” I manage, even as my legs lock around his waist.

He pulls back just enough to grin down at me, and before I can process it, he scoops me up effortlessly into his arms.

I shriek and laugh, arms flying around his neck. “Eddie!”

“Too late,” he says smugly. “You said ‘shower.’ I’m just being helpful.”

He carries me, naked and giggling, into the massive walk-in shower like I weigh nothing, my body pressed tight against his as the cool tile hits my back and the hot spray of water starts pouring down around us.

The second the water hits his skin, the tension changes again—his mouth finds mine under the spray, this time hard and claiming.

My back presses against the steamy glass as he pins me there, water slicking down both of us.

His hands roam my body like he’s memorizing it all over again—palming my ass, then sliding around to cup my breasts, thumbs teasing my nipples until I’m gasping against his mouth.

“I thought you were helping,” I moan, already grinding against his thigh, heat pooling low in my belly.

“I am,” he growls. “I’m helping you start your day right.”

And then he’s dropping to his knees in front of me, water cascading over his shoulders, his mouth hot and hungry as he licks a line up the inside of my thigh.

My head thumps back against the glass with a soft clang, and my hands fly to his wet hair just as his tongue finds exactly where I need him most.

I cry out, hips jerking, and he just groans into me, gripping my thighs tighter.

Eddie in the shower is a menace. A beautiful, devastating, sinful menace.

By the time I’m shaking and coming undone on his tongue, I’ve forgotten every single reason I had for getting out of bed.

The rhythm of his mouth on me is maddening—hot, slow strokes that build and build until I can barely breathe. Eddie’s hands grip my thighs, keeping me spread for him, his tongue moving with such devastating precision I can’t tell where the heat from the shower ends and the fire inside me begins.

“Oh my God,” I gasp, voice echoing against the tile, my hips bucking against his mouth as he groans in response, the vibration going straight through me.

The pressure coils tighter and tighter, unbearable and perfect, until it finally shatters.

I cry out with my eyes squeezed shut, my body trembling as waves of pleasure roll through me—long, blinding, soul-wrecking pulses that make my knees buckle.

If he weren’t holding me, I’d be a puddle on the shower floor.

He kisses my inner thigh like he’s proud of himself—and he should be—then stands slowly, water streaming down his body, his eyes dark and hungry as they meet mine.

“You good?” he murmurs, voice rough, teasing.

“I should punish you for that,” I breathe, still catching my breath, still feeling the aftershocks in my bones.

“Oh yeah?” He grins, eyes glinting. “What’re you gonna do?”

Instead of answering, I drop to my knees.

His smirk falters—just for a second—before it morphs into something hungrier.

He leans back against the slick tile as I take him in hand, feeling the hard, heavy weight of him.

The water rushes around us, heat and steam clinging to our skin as I trail kisses along his hip, up his thigh, teasing him like he teased me.

“You were right,” I murmur, meeting his gaze as I stroke him slowly. “You are helpful. Let me return the favor.”

His breath hitches as I take him into my mouth—slow, deep, letting him feel every inch, every flick of my tongue. His hand slides into my wet hair, not pushing, just there, anchoring.

“Fuck, Laney…” he groans, his head falling back against the tile with a dull thud. “Your mouth is—Jesus—”

I hollow my cheeks, taking him deeper, loving the way his thighs tense, the way his voice breaks.

The control he always seems to have? Gone.

He’s trembling under me, hips twitching, muscles drawn tight with restraint.

I take him in further, loving the way his cock stretches me, pulsing against my tongue.

I breathe through my nose, relaxing my throat as I suck him into my mouth until his cock hits the back of my throat, forcing my gag reflex to tighten around his length.

“Fuck me, baby.” His words are a curse and prayer as I render this magnificent man helpless. My pussy is aching, weeping with the need to climax, but this is all about him. About showing him that he’s not the only one who can worship a body like he did mine last night and again a moment ago.

I swirl my tongue around the tip, teasing the most sensitive spot, and then take him to the back of my throat.

He mumbles a cursed warning and then that’s it—he lets out a raw, strangled moan, his body jolting as he comes hot and thick into my mouth.

I take all of him, savoring the taste, the sound of his ragged breathing, the way his hand tightens in my hair like he’s holding on for dear life.

When I finally pull back, I look up at him, licking my lips, and he’s staring at me like he’s never seen anything so lethal and beautiful in his life.

“Jesus,” he pants, dragging me up to my feet. “You really don’t play fair.”

I grin. “Neither do you.”

He pulls me to my feet and gives me a deep, hard kiss before pulling away and looking at me in the curve of his arms.

Then he taps my ass and reaches for a bottle of the shampoo I use off to the side.

“Turn around, baby, let me wash your hair.”

I stand in front of him while he massages shampoo gently into my hair, his hands slow, methodical, almost reverent.

“You’re dangerously good at this,” I murmur, leaning back into his chest. He leans his chin on my shoulder as his hands wander down from my hair to my breasts and I watch as he pinches my nipples with his thumb and forefinger, watching them harden.

My body is far from perfect but the way Eddie acts, you would think it was a work of art.

“At what?” he asks, his voice low as he returns his hands to my soapy hair and rinses the bubbles out before he smooths his hands down my back.

“All of it. Seduction. Distraction. Hair care.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my spine, then presses a soft kiss to my shoulder. “You’re the one who said shower, Laney. I just followed orders.”

“Mmmm,” I hum, eyes closed as he works conditioner through the ends of my hair. “I’m meeting Sam for coffee in a bit. Assuming you let me leave this shower today.”

“I was going to let you,” he says. “But now that you’ve said that, I’m thinking of new ways to delay you.”

I swat playfully at his stomach, which earns me a low laugh and another kiss.

“I’ve got errands in town,” he adds. “I’ll drop you off. Don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.” His hand traces down my side, slow and possessive, even though we’re both clean and spent.

“Like what?”

“Flushed. Wrecked. Glowing. Mine.”

I roll my eyes, to hide how much I like his words.

As we rinse off, I glance at him over my shoulder. “You know, it still surprises me.”

“What?”

“That you don’t have a security team shadowing your every move. No bodyguard, no entourage. You’re… you.”

He shrugs, grabbing towels. “I don’t need it.”

“Really?” I raise a brow as he hands me one. “You’re a global music star, Eddie. I’ve seen the way people look at you. The things they write.”

He smirks. “I can take care of myself.”

There’s something under the surface of his voice. Not arrogance—certainty. Confidence forged in something real. Something earned.

He leans in, brushing his lips over mine in a kiss that’s soft but lingering.

“And besides,” he adds, just before pulling back, “if someone wants to get close to me… I’d rather it be you.”

And just like that, I melt all over again.