Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I take a step closer, letting the distance shrink between us as the sound of water fills the charged silence before peeling away her clothing. Each layer falls in a hushed whisper against the tile until a pile of fabric pools at our feet. Rina is stunning under the golden glow that spills from the light fixture overhead.
Even though her hair is pinned up, a few rebellious strands escape, tumbling down to frame her flushed cheeks. They catch the light when she moves, a halo of warmth that has everything inside me tightening.
I bend close enough for my lips to brush the delicate slope of her shoulder, tasting the faint sweetness of her skin. I hover there, unwilling to rush, allowing the moment to stretch. Right now, she’s mine to memorize. Every soft sound, every tremor, every quiet surrender.
And I plan to take my time doing it.
Steam thickens around us as I strip down and step beneath the spray with her. The water hits her first, cascading over her shoulders in shimmering streams before sliding down the smooth lines of her body. Droplets cling to her skin like liquid glass, pooling in the hollow of her throat before tracing lazy paths over her curves.
I find myself unable to look away. Every shift, every small rise and fall of her body, every flicker of movement, sears itself into my soul.
I lather my hands, letting the soap work into a smooth glide, before tracing them along her sides. She feels both fragile and unbreakable, and it makes me want to handle her with the utmost care.
My hands map the curves of her body, memorizing them with lingering touches. She shivers when I cup her breasts, my thumbs brushing over the tight peaks. It’s a quiet sound that echoes off the tile before arrowing straight through me. I lean in, pressing my mouth against the column of her neck.
“God,” I murmur against her ear. “You’re gorgeous.”
She tilts her head back, eyes closed, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappears. Tension leaks from her muscles and every line of her body relaxes as I roll the hardened tips between my fingers.
My hands drift lower, exploring the gentle swell of her belly before sliding between her thighs. Her skin is slick from the water, hot and trembling beneath my touch. I find her clit with practiced precision, circling in deliberate strokes that have her hips jerking forward. I shift to light taps and gentle brushes, each movement intentional, each one meant to drive her higher without giving her everything she craves.
She arches, desperate for more, and the sound that breaks loose from her nearly undoes me.
I press closer, my mouth at her ear. “Not yet, baby. I want you begging for me.”
The shudder that slides through her tells me she’s close to breaking, but I hold steady, forcing myself to take my time. Every touch is intentional, a vow etched into her skin. Each caress carries the words I don’t know how to speak out loud.
That she’s mine.
That I’ll worship her until she finally believes it.
That she’ll never have to do this alone.
By the time we’re done with the shower, she’s trembling and pliant beneath my hands, lashes fluttering against her damp cheeks. I twist off the water and reach for a towel, drawing it over her in careful sweeps, unwilling to rush a single second. Not the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, or the gentle rise of her belly where our child grows.
I drop to my knees in front of her, pressing my lips to her stomach and the steady beat of life beneath it.
“I still can’t believe our baby is in here,” I whisper.
Her fingers slip into the damp strands of my hair. Her touch is both gentle and tentative, as if she’s afraid the moment will vanish if she holds on too tightly.
“Neither can I,” she murmurs. “It still feels surreal.”
I meet her gaze. “This isn’t a dream. And I’ll be here every step of the way.”
She doesn’t respond as her eyes search mine. The silence between us feels like a promise waiting to be spoken out loud.
I rise to my feet and brush my thumb over her cheek. “Go lie down so I can finish what I started.”
She moves toward the bedroom on unsteady legs, her body trembling. I follow a few steps behind, fighting for composure that’s quickly slipping away. Every ounce of restraint I have feels stretched thin, pulled tight enough to snap.
I stop in the doorway and take in the sight of her spread out across my sheets. The muted light from the hallway spills over her, turning her skin a rich, golden hue.
For a second, I’m frozen in place. It runs through my head again that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And that somehow, against all odds, she’s mine.