Page 35 of Under Locke & Key

The fabric hits the floor with a wet thud, closely followed by her tank top joining the fray so that she’s in her nearly translucent bra.

I’ve never been more grateful for a summer storm.

Kissing down her neck, over her collar bone, she tastes like rain.

Sinking down to my knees before her, my mouth blazes its way down her body.

My lips against her stomach have her sucking in a breath and I grip her hips in my hands before pressing my forehead to her abdomen.

“What are you doing to me?” I whisper, lost.

“No different than what you’re doing to me. Please , Bryce.”

No more prompting needed, I slip her shorts down her hips and kiss every inch of newly bared skin. Her hands grip my hair and the closer I get to the apex between her legs, the tighter the pull.

“You’re so beautiful,” I say. Staring up at her from my knees, her face flushes. Her nipples strain against the sodden material that hides nothing anymore.

Rachel’s hand drifts down to cup my face, her thumb stroking over the stubble of my cheek. “Your turn.”

I rise with great reluctance, desperate to taste her, but there will be time for that later if I have any say in the matter.

When I was younger I might have been more self conscious about my body, but I’m beyond the point of caring. My cock is achingly hard and I’ll leave it up to Rachel to decide whether she finds me attractive or not—forearms notwithstanding.

She bites her bottom lip, hands skating over my chest and shoulders. “Fuck.”

I take it as a good sign, pressing myself against her body until the heat of her is flush with my front. Sampling her, tasting the salt on her skin dulled by rainwater and steam, I plant kisses along her jaw until I reach her ear.

“I’m going to take my time with you. Until you’re needy.

Until you ache for me to fill you.” It’s a promise, laced with a little bit of that danger she’s stoked in me.

There’s a darker edge than I’m used to because I’ve wanted this for so long and the prospect of getting something I thought I never would .

. . it leaves me fraught—desperate for all she’s willing to give and anxious that this is the only time I’ll have her.

As complacent as I am—as willing to go with a stronger opinion—she makes me want to call the shots. Rachel makes me feel more. Better. Sure.

She moans at the words and I take it as an invitation to continue.

Unclasping her bra I suck just beneath her ear, making a small mark before I speak.

“I don’t know what this is. I’ve never felt it this keenly—this need—and I’m asking you to promise me that you’ll tell me if any of this is too much. I haven’t been with anyone since . . .”

I let the confession hang between us. “In fact, I’ve only ever been with her and one other person in college.

So when I say the thought of you has plagued me for weeks, edging me to the brink, it would be an understatement.

I just want to make sure you are fine with this before I lose my head and the last shred of my self control. ”

She laughs, breathy, and I feel it against my mouth. “You still have self control? That makes one of us.”

Rachel steps back a little, breaking the contact of my mouth against her neck so she can look me in the eye.

“I’m a big girl, Bryce. I can handle it and you.

I’ve had partners of both sexes, in case my bi pride dress wasn’t enough of an indicator.

But I’m responsible. I get checked regularly.

I’m on birth control. And I want this—with you. ”

That’s it. The last clear moment. Whatever happens from here will be pure feeling and instinct, and that deep-seated yearning I’ve tried to ignore.

“Take them off. I want to see you.” I lean against the lip of the tub, eager.

Rachel’s pupils are so dilated, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, but she doesn’t shy away. Tugging them down her hips and over her thighs, she steps out of her underwear and stands naked before me. It’s the most tempting sight in the world.

“God, woman. You’re killing me. I’ll never be able to focus at work now that I know what you look like under those dresses and shorts.”

Her grin is feral, that dimple that I’ve lived to coax doing little to soften the sharp look she gives me.

“Tit for tat.” She gestures toward me and I comply, kicking the boxer briefs over to the rest of the pile of clothes we’ve made.

A few feet between us, we assess each other, the hunger only growing. I hold my hand out for her, beckoning. I step into the water first, hissing a little at the temperature but I adjust almost immediately. Still holding onto her hand, I help her step over the tall side of the tub.

Settling into the water, Rachel’s back to my front, nestled between my thighs, I finally let myself explore. Fingertips ghosting over her sides, the water lapping over our bodies is a sensory experience that’s nearly overwhelming when combined with touch.

One hand on her breast, the other moving down her stomach and over her thighs until I rest it at the juncture.

“ Bryce .” I’m not sure if it’s a warning or a plea.

“Words.”

“Touch me.”

I stroke my pinky against the side of her thigh and I swear she growls.

“Manners,” I say and suck another mark against the back of her neck.

“Touch. Me. Please .” She grits out between her teeth and it’s enough.

My thumb strokes over her clit until she arches against me slightly, her breath catching in the back of her throat. “ Good girl .”