Page 47 of The Lies We Tell

Saint grins. “With you or just in general?”

I gaze at the empty space where most of the junk sat in the corner. “Both. I think it’s your shoulders.”

He looks down at them. “They’re just shoulders.”

Now I laugh. “There is nothingjust shouldersabout your shoulders.”

Saint grins. “I know what you mean though. There is nothingjust pussyabout your—”

I slap my hand over his mouth before he can finish the sentence. “Speaking of which. You aren’t the only one who got hot and sweaty. How do you feel about a shower?”

“You. Wet. Steam. I’m in.” He takes my hand and leads us into the bathroom where we strip each other at record speed.

I step in first and turn the water on, jumping a little as the initial cold spray hits me before warming up. The water rinses away the stickiness before Saint steps in behind me. He tosses a condom on the little shelf in the corner with the shampoos. “We need a fucking step in here or something,” he grumbles.

“Is that because bending is tough on your back, old man?” I tease.

His palm playfully swats my ass. “I’ll show you fucking old.”

He is taller than me by enough of a margin and has to bend his knees to rub his dick along the crack of my ass.

A flicker of a memory of the first night here ripples through me. Of collapsing in the corner. Of Saint pleading with me to stop scrubbing at my skin. He’s taken care of me from the first.

“Make good memories for me,” I say. And without giving him more context, I let him touch me and it’s like he knows what I mean.

He turns me in his arms and kisses me. It’s passionate and lustful. It means more than just sex and we both know it. Yet I feel like he’s holding back. “Saint,” I say, holding his biceps.

Water runs over his head as he looks at me, and we both laugh as we step out of the spray. “I don’t think I can do this if you aren’t who you really are. Don’t hold back. Whether it’s the danger you’re in at work or how you like to have sex. I don’t think we’ll work if you do.”

He runs his hands over my breasts. “You telling me this because you think I’m holding back now?”

“Aren’t you?” I ask.

“Fuck.” It’s the only word I get before he kisses me. This time it’s with abandon. He grabs my hands in one of his behind my back as his tongue seeks mine. The other hand cups by breast then tugs at the nipple. Something in me switches completely.

I feel like I need more of this. Vanilla is sweet, but sometimes I need it spicy.

His hand trails down my body and slides between by legs, dipping between my lips. He pinches my clit, waking something inside of me. Slowly, he slides a finger into me, a steady back and forth until he’s fully seated.

“Think I can make you come hard and fast, sweetheart?” he says against my ear.

His thumb teases my clit. My hips jerk forward, seeking more. I want him, and I know I’m going to get him. “Please,” I beg.

“Pleaseyou want more of my fingers? Orpleaseyou want my cock?”

“Yes. Both.”

Saint grins. “Good answer.”

He lowers his lips to my breast and sucks hard on my nipple before biting it, harder than he did last night. The sensation takes me out of my body. I can barely breathe. His fingers are inside me, his thumb pressing hard on my clit. The sweet suction and pressure on my nipple. My hands held tight between my back. There’s nothing I can do but take it.

Tension explodes at my very core. “Ryker,” I gasp.

Before I have time to come down, he spins me around and places my palms on the wall. He tugs my ass out so I’m bent forward. “Remember you asked me for this?” he says, and I hear the rip of the condom wrapper. It flutters to the floor of the shower.

He slides into me. It’s not gentle, but it’s so deliciously good, I feel the need to step onto my tiptoes.

“Keep your palms on the wall.” He grunts as he pulls out before sliding home. “Fuck, what your pussy does to me.”