“Need you, need to see you,” he murmured into my hair, picking me up roughly and setting me down on the ledge at the end of the shower, knocking shampoo bottles left and right. Dropping to his knees on the tile, he kissed a path down my collarbone, down the center of my torso, hands now reaching out, surrounding me, cupping my breasts and kneading my wet skin. His mouth closed around my nipple, sucking hard and fast, his tongue rolling in a way that made me alternately slap at the wall and push deeper into his mouth.

“Lucas. Oh. Lucas. Oh. Lucas,” I chanted, my hips beginning to roll in concert with his tongue. He released my breast to bring another punishing kiss to my mouth, still tasting of coconut rum, passion running wild now. He pulled my hair to bring my face up, looking deep into my eyes. His face was full of lust. Longing. Lust. Frustration. Lots of lust.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, my voice throaty, filled with that same lust.

“You really want to know?”

I placed my feet on either side of him, using my knees to cage him in and coax him further into me. “Tell me. What are you thinking about right now?”

Lucas stared hard at me, then knelt on the shower floor. He kissed my tummy, let his tongue trace a circle around my belly button. Hands once more touched my skin, his knuckles trailing up the backs of my legs. I leaned forward on the ledge, mimicking his movements with my own hands, tracing little patterns across his cheekbones, pausing to touch the indent above his upper lip, stealing a kiss on my fingertips as his mouth chased me a bit. I let him catch my thumb between his teeth, nipping at me as I let out a soft gasp. Even the air was frantic, charged with the excitement you feel at the very beginning of something. You don’t know quite what it is yet, what it might turn into. But you’re aware of the epic.

“You want to know what I’m thinking? Right this very second?” he asked as I put both hands on the back of his neck once more, trying to pull him back into my orbit.

“Uh-huh,” I murmured, watching as his hands moved farther up my legs, dancing across the tops of my knees.

“It’s a little bit dirty,” he replied, leaning down to press one wet kiss against my left kneecap.

“I’ve never really had the dirty,” I admitted, my mind flashing to missionary after missionary with Charles. I blushed a bit under Lucas’ stare, but held it. I was done with timid. I wanted to try tiger.

He pulled me even farther down on the ledge, toward where he was kneeling. “Still want to know,” he asked, wrapping one of my legs around him, “what I’m thinking about?” He wrapped the other leg around him, his hands moving even higher, digging into my thighs.

“I think so?”

“You think?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He leaned up again, nuzzling at my neck, just below my ear. His tongue darted out just the tiniest bit to lick at the skin below.

I shivered in the very best of ways and nodded yes. What his mouth was doing to my ear might be illegal. And I wanted it.

“What I’m thinking about right now is the same thing I’ve been thinking about since you showed up in this town, blushing in that mirror over the bar.” He moved to my left ear, his right fingertips now tickling the inside of my thigh. “How you look spread out for me, naked and pink.”

I gasped, and he bit the side of my neck hard enough to leave a mark. He continued, now scraping his teeth lightly down towards my collarbone. “I’m thinking about your tits, how gorgeous they are, and how they’ll look when I’m fucking them.”

He buried his face in my skin, sweeping kisses across my breasts once more. His fingertips teased and taunted my nipples, which stiffened at his touch. “But, Miss Thinks She Wants It Dirty, what I’m dying to know”—he reached down below, grasping the inside of my thigh and pushing it open wider, higher around his waist—“is what your pussy will taste like the second before you come.”

Lucas totally brought the dirty.

He pushed me back against the wall and settled between my knees, scooping his hands under my bottom and pulling me to the very edge of the ledge. Instinctively, I closed my knees. Instinctively, he spread them wide. I gasped as he licked his lips. I gasped as he blew the tiniest puff of breath across my naked skin.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice husky and thick. And I gasped when that honey tongue licked my skin, and gasped again when a deep groan came from the back of his throat.

He nuzzled into the crease at the top of my thigh, licking the skin there and teasing me with little sweeps of his tongue, flicks and flutters. I could feel his nose prodding at me, inhaling me deep as I tangled my hands in his hair, holding him exactly where I wanted him. I moaned when his hands teased me apart, opening me further to him. One finger, then two, dipped down and gently eased inside, then began thrusting. My back nearly bowed in half, the assault of sensation running wild through my body. No one, no one, had ever played my body the way he was, and he was just getting started.

His lips surrounded me, kissing and licking, my cries bouncing off the wet tile, water still raining down on his back, as he buried his face in between my thighs. I ran my hands down that very back, leaning over him, arching, finally leaning back again against the wall, my fingers tucked into that hair, holding him. I shivered and moaned. I shook and groaned. Words began to pour forth from my mouth, words that I’d never said out loud before; detailed, wicked words. Then he finally pressed his tongue exactly where I needed him to.

“Fuuuuccckkk,” I groaned, eyes closing against the terribly wonderful pressure building within.