Page 61 of Criminally Yours

She brushed against his dick as he lifted her out of the water. He was hard in this freezing water!

“Wrap your legs around me to make it easier.”

She stared into his big blue eyes.

His jaw flexed, and his hands grippedher thighs.

She shivered against his chest. As she wrapped her legs tightly around his torso, she accidentally ground her hips. His dick bobbed against her.

“Millie, please wash my hair.” His voice strained as he begged.

She rubbed the shampoo gently into his hair before dipping her hands in the lake. She repeated the action of caressing and dipping. Her nails dug into his scalp, massaging as he hummed, his chest vibrating against her.

“That feels so good,” he said gruffly, clasping her tighter. “Don’t stop.”

She reapplied more shampoo before tucking the bottle back to where she kept it safe. His stare followed her hands.

“Does it need more shampoo?” he croaked, as if every drop of moisture had left his mouth.

“Yes,” she replied to his pulsating neck muscle.

Every time she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and caressing him, a bloom of need grew in her belly. She’d missed these sensations for the last ten years. She pressed her chest harder against him.

“Millie,” he whimpered as she lifted slightly to rub against his dick.

She’d made her soldier whimper.

His face creased as he stared at her. Uncertainty collided with hope, bolstered by her resounding desire. Strike tracked her tongue as it swept across her lips. His fingers dug into her thighs. “Please.”

Her breath came out in slow murmurs that made her chest rise and fall as her breasts pressed harder against her top, her nipples grazing his pecs through the thin material.

He scraped his teeth against his lower lip before ducking his head and running his mouth against her neck.

She swallowed the cry teetering on the edge of her throat.

He pressed his forehead against hers.

The anguish in the lines across his face moulded into her skin. Their mouths were close enough to kiss, yet he still wouldn’t cross the line and claim her lips. He ran the tip of his nose against hers.

“I’ve thought about this moment for years. I wanted to know what it’s like to feel your touch again for one brief second,” he whispered.

“Then fucking kiss me. This doesn’t have to mean anything except two scared people using each other to feel better just for one night. Do you want that?”

“More than anything,” he groaned, his breath ghosting her lips.

“Please. Stop thinking or planning and kiss me.”

His lips crashed into hers.

Their tongues tangled with years of repressed emotion. One hand slid to her back, and he pulled her tighter to his chest. She cupped his face, her hands splayed against his cheeks, as he moaned into her mouth.

They kissed like two broken people finally feeling something. Desperation scratched at her skin as he eased back.

She cried out for more.

He smirked before pressing his mouth to hers, moving one of her arms to around his neck.

He gripped her arse. She needed more, yet fear built, pushing away desire and replacing it with memories of rejection. She held on, squeezing her eyes tight, hoping to drown in what he offered. His hand slipped underneath her bikini bottoms.