Page 175 of Villainous Intent

“Strip,” I repeated, not bothering to soften the command.

“Fine,” she finally said.

I leaned against the counter, making no effort to hide my appreciation as she pulled her sweatshirt over her head. Her skin flushed under my scrutiny, a delicate pink spreading from her cheeks down her neck to her chest.

“Happy now?” she challenged, standing before me in just her bra and jeans.

“Getting there. Keep going.”

My cock strained painfully against my pants as I watched her shimmy out of the rest of her clothing.

“Shower,” I instructed, gesturing toward the glass enclosure.

Annie stepped into the shower, adjusting the temperature. Steam began to rise around her, water cascading down her curves. When she reached for the glass door, I stopped it with my palm and leaned against the frame.

She narrowed her eyes at me but turned toward the spray, letting water soak her hair. “Pervert,” she muttered.

“Guilty.”

I watched as rivulets traced paths down her spine, over the swell of her ass. My fingers itched to follow those same trails.

Annie caught my gaze as she tilted her head back. Something flickered behind those blue eyes as she reached for the body wash, the movement deliberately slow. The way her fingers wrapped around the bottle was unnecessarily sensual, her thumb stroking the cap before flipping it open.

Oh.

Her plan crystallized as she poured the liquid directly onto her palm instead of reaching for the washcloth hanging nearby. Manipulative little brat. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Annie spread the soap across her collarbone first, fingers trailing down to cup her breasts. Her eyes never left mine as she massaged them, thumbs circling her nipples until they hardened into tight peaks.

She turned, giving me a perfect view of her ass as she bent slightly to soap her legs. She was weaponizing her own body to see if she could break my composure. She wanted to prove she held some fraction of power in my domain.

I pushed off the doorframe. I didn’t bother breaking eye contact as I unbuckled my belt, the leather sliding free with a sharp snap. Her hands stalled on her thighs.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I instructed. I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it onto the vanity. “You were putting on such a beautiful performance.”

I shoved my pants down and stepped out of them. The steam licked across my skin as I opened the glass door wider and stepped into the spray.

Annie backed up until her shoulders hit the tile as I boxed her in, planting my hands on the wall on either side of her head. The water plastered her dark hair to her neck and shoulders.

“You think you’re clever,” I murmured, leaning in until my mouth hovered inches from her ear. “You think you can bait me into losing control.”

“I was just washing,” she breathed. Her chest heaved, brushing her slick, hard nipples against my chest with every inhale.

“Liar.” I caught her chin between my thumb and index finger, tilting her face up.

I took the bottle of body wash from her and squeezed a generous amount into my palm.

“If you want to be touched, you don’t have to put on a show. You just have to submit.”

I pressed my soap-slicked hand flat against her sternum. Her breath caught in a sharp gasp as I dragged my palm down, mapping the rigid line of her ribs, the dip of her navel, the soft curve of her stomach. My other hand gripped her hip, holding her in place.

I slid my fingers lower, tangling in the slick hair between her thighs.

“Cipher—”

“Quiet.” I found her clit and applied a precise, agonizingly slow pressure. She arched off the tile, a strangled moan tearing from her throat. “I dictate the pace. I dictate the method. You just take it.”

I stroked her, using the slick soap and the water. Her legs parted wider. She clutched my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin. She was at my mercy, her earlier bravado shattered into desperate, uncoordinated need.