Page 204 of Just One More Thing

My hand slides over her ribs and up the curve of her breast. Her head falls back against the wall.

I brush my thumb across her nipple, and the sound she makes—I do it again.

She reaches between us and wraps her hand around me, and my forehead drops to her shoulder because I lose every thought I had.

All of them. Gone.

“Mo.”

She strokes me once. Slow. Deliberate. Fully aware of what she’s doing to me.

“Yeah?” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

I lift my head enough to look at her. Water runs over her face. Her hand is still wrapped around me. Her eyes are dark and focused and completely here.

“You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman.”

“Good because I don’t want a gentleman right now.”

That’s all I need to hear.

My hand slides down her stomach slowly. Her breath catches before I even get there. Then my fingers find her, and she bites her bottom lip.

“Jake.” Breathless. Barely a word.

I work her slowly at first, watching her face the entire time because I want to see every single thing I’m doing to her. Her eyes closing. Her lips parting.

She moves against my hand impatiently, so I speed up.

Her fingers tighten on my shoulders hard enough that I’ll have marks tomorrow, and I want every one of them.

She’s close. I can feel her breathing fracture and her thighs tense against my hand.

I slowly slip two fingers inside her.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers.

I add one more and she comes apart against my hand with my name on her lips and her nails digging into my shoulders.

I hold her through it because her knees stop fully committing to standing.

Before she’s even recovered, she looks up at me through wet hair and flushed cheeks with an expression that is pure challenge.

“I need you inside me,” she says. “Now.”

I lift her immediately.

Her legs wrap around my waist, and I brace her against the wall. For a second neither of us moves. Just water pouring over us while she grips my shoulders and both of us breathing hard.

Then she rolls her hips against me once.

I groan and press my forehead against hers.

“Jake Wheeler,” she says, breathless. “If you go slow right now, I swear I will?—“

I push into her, and the rest of the sentence disappears.

Her back arches off the tile. Her ankles lock behind me. One hand grips the back of my neck while the other presses flat against the wall.