Page 42 of Depraved

Her hand encircles my wrist, shackling me to her.

“Take a shower with me.”

I groan and press my forehead to hers. “You don’t know what you do to me, Karolina.”

That cheshire cat grin scrambles my brain.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” she purrs. “You said you’ll obey my every wish. I want to feel you against me.”

Boldly, she grasps the hem of her lavender sweater and pulls it over her head.

I swallow a curse. She’s not wearing a bra.

And when she shucks off her jeans, she’s not wearing panties, either.

I guess she didn’t take the time to put on underwear when she was running away from me.

I dismiss that dark thought before it can ruin this perfect moment. She’s not running now.

I pull away from her only just far enough to turn on the shower. The water warms almost instantly, and I make sure the temperature is perfect before ushering her inside the large glass stall.

Even with my considerable bulk, it’s more than comfortable enough for the two of us. I made sure to accommodate for her every possible desire when I bought this house.

The reality of actually sharing this intimate space with her is so much sweeter than I could’ve imagined.

Because she’s not naked in the shower with Rand.

She’s with me.

She’s looking deep into my eyes, and she sees straight to my soul.

I was a fool to deny myself this. Experiencing her full recognition after years of separation is almost euphoric.

The water is pink where it swirls around our feet, washing my blood from our skin.

I squeeze the body wash I know she’ll like into my hands and work it into a lather. She does the same, and her eyes momentarily close on a deep inhale.

I knew she would enjoy the rich vanilla scent with a hint of peppery spice. I’ve noted the bath products she’s bought for herself online over the last several years.

I don’t feel so much as a flicker of guilt over stalking her. My obsessive study of the woman I love means I know exactly what to buy in order to please her.

Her expression is almost rapturous as she begins to rub her soap-slicked hands over my body, tracing the contours of my muscles.

She’s touched me before, but it’s like we’re learning each other for the first time all over again. There’s an openness in the way she explores me; she’s not as guarded as she was before.

As her professor, I was a stranger to her, a man she was only starting to know.

Now, she recognizes her soul mate.

The water runs clear, all the blood and dirt washed away.

But I can’t stop touching her. I’ll never be able to stop.

She seems content to linger with me in this perfect moment. Steam kisses her flushed cheeks like dew, and she practically glows—my own personal angel.

Her bold touch roves lower on my chest, over my abs, down to trace the V of my hips…

I groan when her fingers brush my stiffening cock with a featherlight caress. The tender exploration is painfully slow and soft. I’m aching for her, and it’s the sweetest torment of my life.