Page 34 of Riding the Line (Willow Ridge #2)

‘Me again,’ I practically breathe out with the way my breath is racing right now.

Duke’s eyes shutter closed for a beat, then shoot open as my fingers curl around his waistband.

The intensity of his stare weighs on me as I tug his sweatpants down, letting them drop to the floor.

Fuck, even his thighs are mouth-watering.

Which is just made worse now that I can see how goddamn huge he is, straining hard against his underwear.

Duke begins loosening the tied up strings of my sweatpants, brows knitted together, and head dipped as he does.

He steps out of his own pants, and runs a finger along the inside of my waistband, far too close to where I need him.

Then he drops to his knees and presses a kiss to my navel, sending a jolt of electricity through me.

He rests his forehead against me, fingers curling around my waistband.

‘Cherry,’ he whispers against my skin.

One name, too many unspoken meanings.

I cup his jaw, lifting his gaze to mine. Fire ignites in his eyes, pupils enlarging. Two pools of pure desire that I want to dive into.

Duke doesn’t break eye contact as he finally pulls down my sweatpants, knuckles skimming my legs as he does, the tingling sensation they leave going straight to my core.

Carefully, he helps each of my feet out of the legs, brushing his hands up the back of my thighs as he stands again.

It only makes me want him to touch me more, causing me to let out a small, breathy whimper.

The faint smirk on his face tells me that he knows exactly that.

That he’s purposefully prolonging this.

As if I – no, we – haven’t waited so long already.

When Duke’s back towering over me, I’m all too aware of how close he is, how if I move even the slightest bit, my stomach will brush up against his hard cock.

Staring down, I can’t help but swallow again.

But before I can go to remove his underwear, Duke moves towards the shower and turns it on. The sound of the water rushing snaps me back to reality. Holding his hand under the shower for a few seconds to test the temperature, Duke eventually nods and turns to me. ‘You first.’

His eyes flick down to the black thong I’m still wearing. He’s not going to take it off … Even if he’s joining me, he’s still genuinely going to make sure I have a shower. If that doesn’t sum up Duke Bennett, then I don’t know what does.

Fine. I drop my thong and step into the shower, submerging myself under the water.

The hot water doesn’t come close to the heat searing inside my core.

But it’s a welcome sensation, the soothing water sliding over my body, paint slowly dissolving off my skin and landing into the multicoloured pool swirling on the shower floor.

I run my hands over my hair, letting the water soak it.

When I wipe the water from eyes, Duke is still standing at the door, bottom lip dropped as he watches.

He looks at me like I’m the eighth wonder of the world, and it washes away any lingering insecurity with the water.

‘I’m waiting,’ I say, glancing once to his underwear, making sure to rub a hand over my breasts just to tease him. His frame tenses in response, eyes closing for a beat before reopening with a deep exhale.

‘You—’ Duke grabs the waistband of his underwear ‘—are the bane of my life, Cherry Hensley.’ Then he pushes them down, releasing every deliciously thick, hard inch of him. I can’t stop my eyes from widening, or my lips from popping open.

Jesus, I’m in trouble.

‘There’s no way that’s going to fit,’ I admit, realising a second too late that I’ve said it out loud.

Duke steps into the shower, shoulders bouncing as he chuckles.

I back up as he eats up the space between us, a solid wall of dark, shifting muscle.

His head hangs out of the shower’s spray, peering down at me as the water rushes over his back.

And his impressive length brushes my stomach, only highlighting the enormity of it.

I’ve only been with two guys before and it’s safe to say neither of them had anything on Duke.

‘Firstly,’ he starts, placing his hands on the wall either side of my shoulders, ‘we’ll make it fit, don’t worry.’

Oh my God.

Who is this man and what did he do with shy Duke Bennett?

‘And secondly, when did I say I was going to let you have it? Don’t be greedy.

I told you – I’m not fucking you yet. We’re just having a shower.

’ He perks a brow, letting his smirk fully spread out.

The ache between my thighs is torturous at the sight of that smug smile.

I don’t want a shower, I want him. ‘Now,’ he purrs, ‘be a good girl and turn around so I can wash your hair.’

Gulping down the whimper that wants to escape, I obey, unable to do anything with the way he’s just spoken to me. As I turn, my ass brushes against his cock and I can’t help but arch my back a little, pressing back into him more. Duke grabs my hips, fingers pulsing as a silent command to stop.

Probably a good thing, seeing as I feel like I might combust.

‘Careful,’ he whispers in my ear, reaching to the shelf beside us to grab some shampoo.

And then his fingers are in my hair, gently massaging the shampoo into my scalp.

My whole body loosens under his tender touch, breathing finally steadying, even as the flames inside me still kindle.

This whole moment feels so sensuous, yet so safe.

Like this is a promise, that whatever happens, he’ll always take care of me.

I’ve got you, Baby Hensley.

He could be fucking me against the wall if he wanted to.

But instead, he’s washing me. Making sure I’m clean and happy and warm.

Not because he thinks he needs to either – no, not the way others try to help me out because they think I can’t – but because he wants to, even if he knows I can take care of myself.

His hands briefly leave my hair to grab another bottle.

‘You got conditioner?’ I check over my shoulder as he pours it into his palms. It’s not like he knew I’d ever be here again.

His eyes catch mine, softening even if just for a second.

‘Anything for you, Baby Hensley. I picked some up just in case.’ He carefully caresses the conditioner into my hair.

‘This,’ Duke murmurs, raking his fingers through my hair, his breath hot against me, ‘is one of my favourite things. Like fucking silk.’

‘Really?’ I ask, then turn around, letting his hands slip through my hair. I place my hands on his chest to edge him back so I can wash the conditioner out of my hair under the water. He begins lathering up some body wash in his hands next. ‘What else?’

Eyes darkening, Duke takes my face and leans in to skim his lips against mine. ‘These too. Especially when you bite down on them.’

He starts washing my body, hands sliding over my wet skin.

Duke slows down to caress my breasts, meticulously exploring their curves, before rolling one of my nipples between his thumb and finger.

My body bucks in response, making his eyes widen.

He does it again with a grin, catching on to how sensitive they are.

I close my eyes to try to ignore the throbbing between my legs that’s as fast as my heart.

Heavy hands continue to roam my body, trailing and worshipping, like he’s trying to commit every inch of me to his memory. They slide over my stomach, round to cup my ass, his head leaning against my shoulder.

‘I don’t think there was any paint on my ass,’ I giggle when he seems unable to draw his hands away. His hot breath rumbles out in a laugh against my shoulder.

‘What about here?’ he asks, then slips his hand once – only once – between my legs, cupping me for the shortest second ever. The friction is everything, but also nothing.

I’m furious.

Pushing his hands off me, I wipe my own along my body to get some of the soap on my palms. I let myself explore the ridges of his muscles, learning all the edges and lines that I’ve always had to admire from afar.

His solid body begins to soften until I say, ‘I think you had some paint here as well,’ and wrap my fingers around his cock, giving it one long, slow pump.

That’s going need at least two hands later.

Duke’s eyes widen and he growls, ‘Cherry.’

I rub my thumb over the tip once too, just to add to his frustration. I don’t miss the way his legs tremble.

‘Cherry,’ he grinds out once more. ‘Dry yourself off and get on the bed, now .’