Page 30 of Sophie’s Ruin (Crimson and Shadows #2)

“You can get up and wash the soap out,” I instructed, ignoring the dryness in my throat.

Henry obeyed, but not before planting a soft kiss below my belly button.

I sucked in air as another wave of raw lust rolled through me.

I knew he could smell my desire, but he seemed impervious to it save for his eyes, which were almost entirely black when he rose to his feet.

He proceeded to rinse the soap out of his hair, while I quickly washed myself.

When the streams gliding down our bodies ran clear and not red anymore, Henry turned the water off and stepped out of the shower while I remained behind, wringing out my hair.

He handed me a towel, a predatory gleam invading his gaze as it roamed over my naked form.

Our eyes locked, and it felt like I’d forgotten how to breathe until Henry eventually looked away, grabbing a towel for himself from the nearby cabinet.

I watched his muscles bunch and shift as he dried himself off, dabbing the towel over the healing wounds before draping it around his hips.

I wrapped my own towel around myself and followed him out of the bathroom, my damp feet pattering on the cool stone floor.

Henry headed for the dresser, his large frame bathed in the soft yellow glow of the lamp on the bedside table.

My brows pinched as I followed after him, telling myself not to be disappointed that he was going to get dressed.

He was undoubtedly exhausted after everything he’d been through.

It was selfish of me to expect anything…

Henry stopped abruptly by the foot of the bed and turned around to face me.

I halted before him, clutching the towel to my chest.

The air between us became charged as we stared at each other, unmoving, barely breathing.

My gaze fastened on him, I could see the bruises on his face fading away, the cuts healing, his strongly defined features slowly returning to near-flawless perfection.

The rest of his body was trying to catch up, I noticed, lowering my gaze to his hard chest, but the lacerations there were deeper, taking longer to heal.

I took a breath, swallowing to relieve the tightness in my throat.

My fingers itched to reach for Henry, to pull him to me.

My lips tingled, yearning for his kisses, but I held myself back.

He’d been through so much. I would wait for him to come to me.

I would not be selfish and take. I would only give. When he was ready for it.

“You need to rest,” I said, but the words came out more as a question than a statement, and I chided myself in my head. I really didn’t want to push him.

“I need you,” Henry rasped, raw emotion in his broken voice.

My legs became weak with relief. He wanted me. Now. I didn’t have to wait any longer to feel his body on mine.

“Anything you need, I’m yours,” I told him, looking into his dark eyes. I knew the same molten heat had also invaded my gaze.

A harsh exhale of relief left him, as if he’d needed the confirmation.

“Anything?” he asked, low and thick.

“Anything,” I breathed, unwrapping the towel from around my chest and letting it drop to the floor.

Any blue remaining in his eyes instantly gave way to black.

His hungry gaze became all-consuming as he slowly drank in my naked body.

I shivered at the intensity of his stare, feeling every part of me coming alive with sparks of desire.

They skittered over my skin like tiny bursts of lightning, making it flush and sensitive.

My pulse quickened, my breathing coming in short, rapid pants, as Henry’s eyes lifted back to my face.

His gaze was raw and pleading. I’d wanted him to come to me and now he had, asking me to make the next move without saying anything at all.

I stepped into him, his fresh and woodsy scent enveloping me.

It went straight to my head, driving me wild.

I’d gotten him back. He was right here in front of me.

Waiting for me to touch him. So I did. Lifting my hand up, I gently pressed my fingertips to his chest. He shuddered, covering my hand with his to press my palm more flat against his skin.

His other hand went up and he dragged his fingers down my cheek, his eyes following the movement.

“I prayed that I would get to touch you again,” he said low, his voice hoarse. “To hold you in my arms.”

“You didn’t think I’d come for you?” I asked, my brows knitting in confusion.

“I thought that even if you did, it would be too late,” he said, the last part barely above a whisper as if he didn’t want to admit it aloud.

“I would always come for you,” I told him fiercely. “It would never be too late. I would drag you from the edge of the void if I had to.”

Henry’s eyes widened at my words, and instead of responding, he clasped the back of my head and sealed his lips to mine.

There was no build-up to the kiss. Our mouths collided, desperate and seeking.

I opened up for him, and he delved deep, our fangs clashing and our tongues mingling.

He let go of my hand on his chest and wrapped his arm around my waist to bring me flush with him.

I gasped into his mouth at the feel of his body on mine, skin to skin.

He tried to turn me toward the bed, but I resisted.

There was a question in his eyes when I broke the kiss and pulled away.

Looking up at him from beneath my lashes, I gave him a sultry smile before I brushed my lips over the firm line of his jaw.

He shivered at the soft contact and became incredibly still as I unwrapped the towel from around his hips, letting it drop to the floor.

I began trailing kisses down his neck, nipping at the spot where his pulse thrummed just below his skin.

His breathing hitched, but I didn’t linger, kissing down his chest to his torso and lower still.

I heard him swallow thickly when I dropped to my knees and planted a kiss on his thigh, close to where he throbbed for me.

The sight of him, long and thick, made my mouth water and set all my senses on fire.

I looked up at him then, and the way he stared down at me sent a bolt of desire straight through me.

I might be the one on my knees, but he was the one entirely at my mercy, and knowing that only intensified the potent lust. My eyes fastened on his face, I wrapped my hand around him and began moving it up and down his length.

His head fell back, and a rough sound left him, a low growl that sent another pulse of arousal through me, making me squeeze my thighs at the curling sensation.

The sound of him coming undone before me was like a drug, and I wanted to hear it again, willing to do anything for it.

Opening my mouth, I wrapped my lips around the thick hardness and began moving on him together with my hand.

I was rewarded with that primal growl again as his fingers threaded through my hair, gently urging me to go faster, to take him in deeper.

I was more than happy to comply, and for a few minutes, the sounds of me pleasuring him and his harsh breathing filled the quiet bedroom.

I was prepared to go until I tasted his release on my tongue, but to my surprise, he tugged on my hair, pulling me off him.