Page 20 of Worth the Try (Atlanta Granite #1)

Elodie

O H MY GOD.

Oh my God.

Oh. My. God .

Ansel’s thick fingers push between my legs, and I nearly combust right then. Never have I ever had a man touch me like this. Not with such expertise. Such…certainty. My grip tightens around his neck as my other hand scrambles for purchase on his thigh.

His thighs . I’m bracketed between them, hard and muscular and absolutely everything I want to have wrapped around me always. The bubbles are disappearing, leaving me with a delicious view of those thick legs as they move in the water, spreading to ensure my own comfort as his fingers?—

Holy shit, his fingers. I moan and arch up, needing the friction.

“Tell me, Elodie,” he demands, his rough voice sending shivers down my spine.

“Harder,” I pant. “Faster.”

“Good,” he praises, giving me exactly what I’ve asked for. “There’s my girl. Telling me what she wants.”

A delicious sweetness starts to build between my legs as his fingers press and swirl around my clit.

I’m lost to everything. Lost to the thunderstorm raging outside.

Lost to the worries, the what-ifs that plague me about this thing happening between me and Ansel.

Lost to worrying about the million things I need to do for my new business.

None of it matters except this man’s talented fingers between my legs.

His hand on my breast. His voice crooning into my ear and urging me to come.

“Ansel,” I gasp, my hips bucking in the water. “Oh?—”

“There you go,” he whispers, not stopping, pressing exactly where I need him to press. “Fucking gorgeous.”

Sounds come out of me that I’ve never made before, hums and incomprehensible words and pants. My grip gets tighter around his neck, his thigh. Pressure builds, the orgasm just out of reach. “Ansel,” I moan, drawing out the last syllable.

“God, yes,” he grunts. “You’re so close. You want to come for me. Be loud, Elodie. Give me your voice. Come on. Come for me, Elodie. Come. Please.”

It’s the please that tips me over the edge.

I shatter, my entire body going rigid as I arch up, his fingers still stroking me as I shout and gasp his name.

My walls pulse with the intensity, my hips rocking in time to the pleasure coursing through me, literal waves in the water matching the waves of bliss crashing inside me.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he says softly. “I want to watch you do that again and again.”

My only response—the only thing I can get out—is a low hum. Ansel’s fingers slow and ease up, his own body seeming to follow mine as I come down from the orgasm. Finally, I slump against him, the feel of him rock hard against my back as I release my grip on his neck.

He brings his hand up my belly and chest until he’s lightly tipping my chin up and back toward him.

He leans down, claiming my mouth in a deep, searching kiss, and eventually I turn and rise, settling myself once again over his thighs.

Only this time, there are no clothes between us. No one to find us.

Like then, his arms tighten around me, but this time, I let myself get as close as possible.

His dick juts between us, and as we kiss—have mercy, this man can kiss —I run my palm down his torso, feeling the hard planes of muscles and the patch of dark hair.

When my fingers travel farther, he moves quickly, capturing my hand and pressing it to his chest.

“No need,” he mutters against my lips. “This is perfect.”

“Your body says differently,” I smile, leaning back to admire him.

“I know, but I promise,” he answers.

I want to argue, but I shiver, the heat that built inside me having dissipated with the orgasm.

His thick brows knit together. “The water’s getting cold. Let’s get out.”

“No,” I whine, not wanting to break the spell. But as I speak, I tremble again.

His jaw clenches. “We’re getting out.”

I almost giggle. “That’s quite a stern face you’re giving me right now.” I pause. “Wait. How are we?—”

“Getting out of the tub?” he asks, a wicked grin forming. “I was wondering when you’d think about that.”

I pinch his arm.

“Ow!” He laughs, then pulls me close again. “Did I, or did I not, just make you come?”

Heat singes my cheeks as I look down.

“God, you’re adorable when you blush,” he murmurs, guiding his finger under my chin to force my eyes back to his.

They’re a warm brown, kind and gentle with the tiniest glint of teasing in them.

“I want to see all of you, Elodie. As far as I’m concerned, your body is flawless.

It’s everything I want. But I only want to see what you’re comfortable showing me. ”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” I say, and I mean it. “It’s you.” My cheeks flame hotter.

His sweet grin morphs into a full-on smirk. “Explain.”

I cover my face.

A soft chuckle escapes him as he works carefully to peel my hands away. “Hurry, before the water gets ice cold.” Then he winks. “You afraid to see what’s between my legs?”

I pinch him again, going for the fleshy part of his chest right on the inside of his armpit.

“Ow!” He rubs the spot and fakes a scowl. “Okay, okay, I’m getting out. Or do you want to get out first?”

Admittedly, I haven’t thought this through. If I get out first, then my lady parts are going to be right in front of his face. But if he gets out first, then it’s his parts that are in my face.

And that’s the problem, because I think…I think I’d like that. A lot.

Ansel doesn’t need to know that I’ve only had one partner, and that it was the man I thought I was going to marry, and that I rarely orgasmed with him.

He also doesn’t need to know that my ex was never a fan of giving or receiving oral.

And Ansel most definitely doesn’t need to know that, right now, all I want to do is throw him on the bed and see how long it takes me to run my lips over every part of his body.

His spectacular, muscular, big-thighed body.

Seriously. God bless rugby.

“Earth to Elodie,” Ansel teases. “Who’s putting their ass in front of whose face?”

My jaw unhinges. “Oh my God, did you seriously just say that?”

He laughs, the sound burrowing deep into my heart. “I did. Now answer me, love.”

“You,” I blurt. “No! Wait. Me.”

His lips quirk. “Are you sure? I’ll cover my eyes if you want me to.”

“You can look.”

It’s as though he’s a kid who’s just been told he has a pile of presents to open. “Yeah?”

I nod. “You did just make me come, after all,” I say with a grin.

“That I did.” He wiggles his fingers. “Up you go.”

I stand before I can think more about it, turning away from him as shyness punches into me. I hustle out onto the plush mat, then step to grab the towel he laid out and wrap it around me. I don’t bother trying to dry myself; my only goal is to cover up.

It’s only then that I notice how quiet Ansel’s gone.

I turn, not knowing what to expect, and a soft gasp leaves my mouth.

Gone is the sweet man I know. The man who puts everyone before himself. The man who insists on please and thank you . In its place is a predator. A man with dark, hooded eyes who stares at me as if he’s starving, and I am his meal.

Instantly, my core tightens and warms. Because I really, really like this look.

Without a word, he stands. Water and bubbles sluice down his body, and I shamelessly take my fill.

God, he is beautiful . Taut, honed muscles grace nearly every inch of him, his broad shoulders angling down to hips that divot down to an impressive dick that makes my mouth water.

His thigh muscles flex and pulse as he steps out of the tub, and I finally see the entirety of the rose tattoo, its deep red hues even darker in the dim light.

When I finally drag my eyes back up to his, Ansel raises an eyebrow. “Like what you see?”

I lick my lips and nod, my mouth dry.

He clocks the move and groans, stalking to me as I stand motionless, not knowing what to do.

When he reaches me, he yanks my towel off. “Don’t ever hide yourself around me, Elodie,” he growls. Then he hauls me into his arms, his damp body pressed against mine, pulling me to him with such force I’m thrown off balance. “Jump,” he commands, then crushes his mouth to mine.

I do as he says, his arms cradling my hips when my legs encircle his waist. He’s wet, but I don’t care.

His dick bounces against the bottom of my ass as I hook my ankles together, and I use the angle to take control of the kiss.

It’s a tangle of lips and teeth and tongues, hunger and need overtaking us.

He walks us to the bedroom, moving to the bed and breaking the kiss with a gasp. “I need to taste you,” he says, his voice dark and husky.

With that, he sits me on the mattress, and I scoot up and over, moving to the center as he watches.

The only light is from the candles in the bathroom.

As I stare at his darkened form, lightning streaks across the sky outside, giving me brief glimpses of his body.

And have mercy, the way this man is looking at me.

“Take whatever you want, Ansel,” I whisper.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, his voice dark and low, kneeling on the floor and grabbing my ankles, “I plan on it.” Then he yanks me down the bed until my butt is at the edge of the mattress.

“Watch me,” he directs. His tone brooks no dissent, but his touch is gentle.

Reverent. The dichotomy is enough to set me on edge, excitement mixing with the unknown.

I rise to my elbows and look down, nearly combusting at what I see in the dimness. His hair, normally brushed back and away from his face, falls onto his forehead in thick, unruly locks. He stares at me through predatory, hooded eyes, and as I watch, he spreads my legs and takes in my center.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he murmurs reverently.

My breathing speeds up as I grip the comforter. “Ansel,” I whisper.

His gaze, dark and feral, meets mine and holds as he leans forward, pressing his nose against my mound and inhaling.

“Fuck,” I exhale, the sight so unbelievably hot and sexy that I feel the wetness of my arousal.