Page 36 of Burning Rivalry

“I know you’re right, but they like checking up on me at work.” Right. To make sure he wasn’t working himself to literal death. “Anyway, I like the family feel at the restaurant. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

I’d never heard him talk this openly about his vision. Yes, he wanted to pay homage to his grandfather, but what else?

“I want the sort of restaurant where people can come in and feel like they’re at home. I know, revolutionary,” he added, chuckling at himself once we reached the second floor with its simple, clean decor. A few tasteful prints on the walls depicting what looked like Italian landscapes added warmth. “That would be why I chose the name. There is nothing in the world like walking into a restaurant and feeling like they know you, feeling comfortable, wanting to have big meals there with the people who matter most. That’s a beautiful thing, and I don’t take it for granted… the trust people put in me.”

We entered a large bathroom decorated in shades of cream and forest green. I marveled silently at the large tub, which he filled with water that soon began to send steam billowing into the air. It was more than big enough for the two of us. Was that what he had in mind?

“Not too hot,” I warned. “I’m already burned.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” Yes, that was what this was all about, right? Him wanting to take care of me. All it took was a dumb move on my part, acting without thinking, to send his protectiveness into overdrive.

Pretty soon, it was obvious I would need help since the simple act of getting undressed was a challenge with one hand wrapped in gauze. He helped without being asked. Gently, he pulled down my linen pants and lifted my shirt over my head. Somehow, he managed to keep things impersonal until it came time to unhook my bra. The hitching of his breath told the whole story, that and the stampeding of my heart at the intimacy of it all. It was too easy to fall under his spell, especially when his hungry gaze crawled over me the way it did, watching my every move. There was a sudden charge in the air, the way it felt before a thunderstorm, like lightning could strike at any second.

Once I was naked, he helped me carefully into the tub, where the warm water slowly enveloped me as I settled back. He even folded a towel to place under my neck so I would be more comfortable. “Thank you,” I nearly purred as the water’s warmth seeped into my muscles.

Unbuttoning his crisp white shirt, he said, “If you don’t mind, I’m going to rinse off too.” Mind? Who would mind the pleasure of watching him strip down? Should I have ogled his body the way I did? I couldn’t help it. Besides, something told me he didn’t mind. He had done the same to me, after all.

Soon, I was almost able to forget the persistent throbbing in my hand. It was much more interesting to watch him step into the shower stall and soap himself up. I forgot how to breathe as I watched the sudsy water slide over his skin, taking what was already so finely chiseled and making it look otherworldly. He couldn’t be real, but he was, and he was directly in front of me. Wanting me.

By the time he finished, it wasn’t just my hand that throbbed. My clit was in serious need of attention, too, and my nipples were tight enough to ache.

“What was that meant to be?” I asked with a smile. “Something to whet my appetite?”

“If it did, I’m glad. If you can think of anything besides that burn, I must be doing something right.” The open confidence in his voice brought a flush to my face, even though there was nothing to be embarrassed about. He knew I wanted him. I had made it clear.

And he wanted me.

There was no question.

All the hate and back-and-forth had brewed a few weeks’ worth of angry frustration, but beneath it all was a need neither of us realized was there—just like there was no question about whether I was strong enough to resist openly admiring the twitch of his bulge beneath the towel slung low around his waist. It sat low on his hips, teasing at the V-shaped ridge of muscles leading down to what thickened and swelled in front of him.

“How’s it going over here?” he asked, gazing down the length of my body and then kneeling beside the tub.

“I was hoping for a little help,” I murmured, my heart thudding as he dipped a washcloth into the water and poured body wash over it.

“I’ll see what I can do.” At first, he was gentle but efficient, running the soapy cloth over my shoulders, neck, and throat. I closed my eyes, letting myself feel it completely, with no thoughts or reservations in the way. I was too happy to feel good while he took a tour of my body like he hadn’t yet done. Every inch of me, or at least what he could reach, even lifting my legs one at a time and washing them from the tip of my toes to the top of my thighs without saying a word. It was enough for him to concentrate on his work.

I finally opened my eyes once he was finished with that, and I found plain desire swirling in his. There was only one part of me he hadn’t taken care of yet, and I parted my thighs in silent invitation.

“It is essential I clean everywhere, Granger,” he whispered, soaping the cloth again, starting at the place where my thigh emerged from the water and slowly, inch by inch, descending under the surface.

My back arched, and a low moan stirred in my chest. “That’s good,” I whispered, holding my breath, straining. I needed this too much, with all of my body and soul. I needed the sort of oblivion only he could bring.

“Relax.” His voice was velvet, brushing against my ears as softly as his hand brushed me underwater. “I’ll take my time with you… make you forget everything else but me.”

At first, he moved the cloth over me slowly, taking his time, each stroke torturously drawn out. But after a while, the patience wore thin, and his restraint gave way as he finally shifted my legs, leaving no room for hesitation and parting my lips with his fingers. “Oh!” I groaned. The electricity of his touch paired with his quicker, ragged breathing, betrayed his need while he took care of mine. I gasped and shuttered, jerking my hips to meet his skillful touch, whimpering my approval when he toyed with the aching, burning bundle of nerves.

“So fucking beautiful like this.” He teased my earlobe with his tongue before grazing it with his teeth and doubling the unspeakable pleasure tearing me apart. “Are you going to give it to me? Are you going to let me hear you fucking scream?”

I didn’t have a choice. There was no holding back, not that I wanted to. I wanted all of it, every ounce of sensation, every sizzling thrill his touch brought to my body. For one brief, breathless moment, it occurred to me I had lived all my life without this, and the thought was almost enough to bring tears to my eyes as I climbed higher and higher.

“Let go,” he demanded, his breath coming hot and fast. “Come for me so I can fuck you. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes!” I pleaded, not caring anymore about my pride. Nothing mattered but this. Getting what I wanted. Getting him.

And when I did come, shattering into a million pieces, he groaned softly in approval. “That feel good?” I could only moan in affirmation while he stood and grabbed another big, fluffy towel. Rather than helping me from the tub so I could dry off, he stood me up, wrapped the towel around me, and then lifted me across his arms.

“What are you doing?” I asked, still a little dizzy, a little breathless.