I looped my arms around his neck, pressing my chest against his, feeling his erection between us. His hands roamed across my back, down my spine, over my ass. He squeezed, pulling me against him, sending pulses of desire shooting from my core to the farthest reaches of my body, fingers and toes.

“I’ve thought about this,” he whispered, his fingers slipping between my legs, teasing inside me.

“In the shower?” I wondered, because I had too.

“Yes. And in my bed.”

“What did you do while you thought about it?”

“You know what I did.”

Rising onto my tiptoes, I put my lips to his ear. “Do it now. Let me watch.”

He went still. “You want to watch?”

I nodded and took his earlobe between my teeth, tugging gently, then kissed my way down his throat.

A groan rumbled in his chest and he squeezed my ass again. “There are so many things I want to do to you. And we have so little time.”

“Please,” I said breathlessly, pushing back from him. “Let me watch you. Even if it’s just for a minute.”

He stood still beneath the spray for a moment, arms at his sides, steam rising around him. I held my breath. With one hand, he reached up and placed a palm on the tiles. With the other, he fisted his cock.

My mouth fell open as I took it all in—his hot wet skin, the muscles in his arms and abs flexing, his midnight-blue eyes fixed on me, the hard set of his jaw, that massive dick sliding through his hand.

He went slower than I’d expected—nothing frantic or aggressive in his movement. He gripped himself hard but worked his arm and hand in sensual, fluid motions, fist up and down the length of his shaft, palm circling the crown, fingers gliding over the tip. I’d never in my life thought of a guy’s erection as beautiful before, but Cole had a gorgeous cock—there was no other way to describe it.

His hand began to move faster, and his breathing changed. It grew louder, heavier, his stomach muscles were clenching tight. “Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice low and raspy.

I dropped to my knees in front of him. Put my hands on his thighs. “I want to taste you.”

He grimaced, almost like he was angry, but angled himself toward my mouth. Rubbed the tip of his cock on my lips. “You’re making me crazy.”

“Good.” I swirled my tongue around his crown, and he moaned, moving his hands into my wet hair. Taking his shaft in both hands, I licked him with broad, decadent strokes, like I was determined to taste every last inch of him—and there were many. I slipped the first two in my mouth and sucked, making him curse. I moved my lips down a couple more, feeling his hands curl into fists, pulling my hair tight. I took him as deeply as I dared, letting him hit the back of my throat and lingering there for just a moment, angling my head this way and that.

“Fuck yes,” he growled, hips flexing slightly, his body instinctively trying to go deeper.

I pulled back and took a breath, then took him to the back of my throat again, using my hands on what I couldn’t work between my lips. By no means was I experienced at this, but all I wanted to do was please him, and every sound he made, every quick inhale of breath, every twitch of his cock in my mouth made me feel like a fucking blowjob queen. I could taste him—salty and sweet.

“Stop,” he said suddenly, pulling back from me, taking himself from my mouth. “You have to stop.”

“But I don’t want to.” I looked up at him pleadingly. “Let me finish.”

“Some other time.” He reached beneath my arms and pulled me to my feet. “Believe me, if we had all day and all night, I’d beg to come like that, with your mouth on my cock.”

“Then let me—”

He silenced me with a hot, demanding kiss, his tongue slashing between my lips, his hands sliding over my hips. “Right now, there’s something I want more.”

“What?” I whispered.

He spun me to face the wall. Pressed me against it. Put his mouth at my ear. “I want to make you come with it.” His hands skated around to my stomach, one moving up, one going down. The hot, solid length of his erection pushed against my lower back.

“But you did. Three times already.”

“Shh. I’ll never get enough. Now spread your legs.”

I braced two hands on the tiles and did as he asked, panting as he worked his fingers between my thighs. His mouth traveled down my neck and shoulder, and his other hand covered one breast. His fingertips moved expertly over my clit, as if he’d learned exactly what I liked in the space of just one night. First slowly and lightly, then firmer and more insistent. He dipped inside me then licked his fingers, returning them to my swollen sweet spot and caressing me in a way that made it feel like his tongue.

In less than a minute, I was rocking against his hand, about to explode, desperate to feel his cock inside me. “Cole,” I whispered. “Do it. Make me come again.”

The low rumble from his throat—something between a laugh and a moan—twisted the tension in me even tighter. I leaned forward, pressing my cheek against the cool tiles, arching my back. He placed a palm between my shoulder blades and dragged it down my spine. “Your fucking body,” he growled. “I want to do such bad things to it.”

“Cole,” I pleaded. “I’m so close.”

A second later, he was pushing inside me, and I rested my forehead against the wall, my mouth open, my eyes shut tight against the twinge of pain. He was rougher than he’d been last night, thrusting into me with deep, hard strokes. I cried out at the peak of each one, but he didn’t slow down or let up. It reminded me of the night he’d called me and talked me right into an orgasm—it was him, but it was a side of him he didn’t show very often. Something private and intense.

He reached between my legs again and rubbed me like he had before, and the touch was like setting off fireworks inside me, my body erupting in glorious, pounding, bursts. Behind me, Cole grabbed my hips and held me still as my core muscles spasmed around him, and I could feel the throb of his cock as his orgasm moved through his body and into mine.

The first thing I became aware of was the sound of the water. Then the hard tile under my hands and beneath my forehead. Then my heavy breathing. Cole’s arms came around me, and I opened my eyes.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I think so.” I touched my forehead. “I might have grout lines etched in my skin.”

He chuckled, dropping a kiss on my shoulder before gently pulling out of me. “Let me see.”

I faced him, wrinkling my nose. “Well?”

Taking my face in his hands, he pretended to examine it. “You take my breath away. Just like always.”

I smiled. “Good, because I’ll need to distract people with my face this morning so they don’t notice I’m walking funny and can hardly sit down.”

He laughed. “Sorry.”

I poked his chest. “Liar.”

He took one of my hands in both of his and kissed my fingers. “Was I too rough?”

“No. I liked it—it’s a different side of you.” I looked at his hands and noticed again that he wasn’t wearing his ring. The question was on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back.