“Plus,” he leans down and whispers in my ear, “I really can’t wait to taste the rainbow.”
I laugh then groan when the cut on my lip pulls.
“Shit, sorry. Come on, let's get you cleaned up, then I’ll get some ice for your face.”
I turn and reach for the shampoo, which he promptly snatches from my hand.
“Hey,” I scold, but that quickly turns into a moan of appreciation when he pours some onto his palms and begins to massage it into my scalp.
I stand there docilely and let him wash my hair, rinsing off the soapy suds before conditioning it, all without a single word of protest. I might be wary of where this thing between us is going, but I’m not crazy enough to say no to a hot guy washing my hair. Especially when said hot guy is my husband.
“Okay, so you are definitely earning brownie points for this, not gonna lie.”
He chuckles quietly behind me. “Good to know, Skittle. Are you feeling better now?”
I turn to face him and feel my stomach clench with need at the look in his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I whisper.
His fingers trail up my arm, toying with the strap of my bra, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Trust me?” he asks softly.
I shake my head no, making him chuckle again.
“Let me prove myself. I won’t hurt you, sweetheart, I promise. I just want to take care of you.”
I stare in his eyes as he watches, waiting for me to take a leap of faith.
Okay. Damn, am I going to do this? The last time I was naked with this man, things got kind of wild. But I promised I’d give this marriage a shot. How will I know if it will sink or float if I don’t give it everything I can?
Nodding, I wait to see what his next move will be.
He takes a step closer to me, his front brushing against mine, his erection thick and heavy between us, but we ignore it for now. Reaching behind me, he deftly unclips my bra and slides it down my arms, pulling it free and tossing it into the corner.
My chest rises and falls rapidly with each ragged breath I take, but I don’t take my eyes from Asher’s, letting his heated gaze keep me grounded and in the moment.
Without looking away, he hooks his fingers into the side of my panties and oh so slowly slides them over my hips and down my thighs. Bending, he kneels, helping me step out of them, and all the while, his eyes continue to blaze into mine.
Lifting my hands without thought, I run my fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with my nails, eliciting a moan from him before he quickly stands up and chastises me as my hands fall away.
“I’m trying to be a good man here, Skittle, but I’m no fucking saint. I can’t think clearly when you touch me.”
His words make my skin tingle, a sense of power washing over me along with the knowledge that I have as much control here as he does, if not more. I’m willing to bet if I push him, he’ll crack.
Asher reaches behind me and snags the body wash, squeezing a generous amount into his palm before lathering his palms together. Starting at my shoulders, he runs his hands down my arms and around to my back, trailing his fingertips over my ribs as he slowly makes his way to my hips. After applying a little more soap, he slides his large hands over one leg then the other, coming dangerously close to the apex of my thighs but never crossing the line. Standing back up, he slowly cups my breasts but doesn’t linger before rinsing all the suds away.
“Time to get out, gorgeous.” His gravelly voice sounds a touch deeper than usual.
“What about you?” I ask, indicating his boxer shorts, but he shakes his head.
“I underestimated the effect your naked body would have on mine, and I really overestimated my control. Right now, these boxers are the only thing keeping my cock out of your sweet pussy.”
“Holy crap,” I whisper
“Yeah, that about sums it up.” He smirks, leaning over to shut off the water before stepping out and grabbing a large fluffy white towel from the heated towel rail.
He holds the towel open for me, so I step out in somewhat of a daze, letting him wrap it securely around me before he grabs a second towel for himself.
I would love to be able to say I offered him the same respect he showed me, keeping my eyes firmly on his despite the temptation, but mine are drawn to his cock like it's fitted with a homing beacon.
With no shame, he shucks his boxers to the floor where they hit the tile with a loud slap. They could have hit the floor and exploded into flames and I still wouldn’t have been able to tear my eyes away from Asher's very big, very hard cock that stands loud and proud before he covers it with a towel.
“Should I feel objectified?” he asks with amusement in his voice, making me look up as I feel my face heat.
“Well, I’m your wife, right? If anyone gets to look, it’s me,” I sass, making a grin stretch across his face.
“I can’t argue with that, Skittle. Come on, let's go and get you some ice and you can tell me everything that happened. And then…” His voice trails off as he steps forward, his body once more flush with mine.
“And then?” I ask breathlessly, as I try and fail to pretend I’m unaffected.
“And then I’m taking my wife to bed.”
Oh boy.
Seventeen
Linda
Sitting at the kitchen island, wearing nothing more than my underwear and one of Asher’s shirts, I relax with a glass of wine as Asher hangs up the phone. The heat between us is still present, but it’s now more of a low simmer than the flames that licked my skin earlier.
“That was a friend of mine down at the station. He says we can go tomorrow and file a report, but it's more a formality than anything else. The chances of finding your bag or the person who took it are slim.”
“I figured as much. I went online like you said and canceled my bank cards and stuff. Not really much else I can do.” I shrug and take a sip of my wine.
Luckily there wasn’t anything in there that couldn’t be replaced. I’m more pissed about losing my sketch pad than anything.
He sits in front of me in nothing more than a pair of low slung gray lounge pants and lifts my legs onto one of his thighs, his large hand resting over my calves. I still can’t get over how tactile he is with me. A thousand little touches that might go unnoticed to some light up my body like the fourth of July, and I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. His hand on the small of my back, his long fingers tucking my hair behind my ear, or stroking my skin with his calloused palm like he is now makes me realize how starved of human touch I’ve been for the last year.
“Put this back on. It will help with the swelling,” he urges me, lifting the melting bag of peas off the counter.
“I’m okay, I promise,” I reassure him, but he holds the bag in front of me until I take it with a sigh.
“Thank you. Now tell me from the beginning what happened.” His voice leaves no room for arguments, so I decide to just get it over with.
“I went back home—”
“This is your home now,” he interrupts me, making me roll my eyes.
“If you are going to keep cutting me off, this story is going to take forever to get through. As I was saying, I went to my old place to grab some of my art supplies and ended up packing everything while I was there. I didn’t even realize how much time had passed until I’d finished and noticed it was getting dark. I left, caught the train, and got back here just before the heavens opened.”