“I like the sound of that.”

I take one step toward the bathroom, and he says, “Stop.”

I meet his eyes, and he holds out the shirt.

I look at it in confusion. “What?”

“Put it back on.”

“I don’t understand.”

Creighton reaches for my hand, places the shirt in it, and curls my fingers around the soft cotton.

“I told you I was going to strip you naked and fuck you in the shower. I didn’t say you were going to strip for me.”

Seriously?

But I don’t protest. I think it’s the promise of the orgasms looming on the horizon, and the way he’s looking at me with scorching heat in his eyes. Shaking out the shirt, I pull it back over my head and turn to head for the bathroom.

Creighton stalks me as I make my way back through the master suite into the crazy-nice bathroom. I pause in front of the huge glass shower enclosure and wait.

The heat radiating from his big body penetrates the thin cotton fabric I’m wearing, and I wait for whatever he’s going to do next. The anticipation is almost a tangible thing.

His mouth must be only half an inch from my ear, because his breath ghosts along it when he says, “Get inside.”

I open my mouth to protest, because I’m still wearing the shirt and underwear.

“Now, Holly.”

The order sends shivers racing down my spine. Unlike before, his tone is smoothly seductive and commanding rather than condescending. It’s intoxicating and impossible to ignore.

Stepping into the shower, I await his next command. I don’t have to wait long.

“Turn on the water.”

I reach for the fixture and twist. The hot spray hits me from several different angles, and I shut my eyes. Water soaks through the shirt in moments, and I realize that I’m giving Creighton his very own wet T-shirt show. And that knowledge is not unappealing.

When my nipples harden against the drenched fabric, I wipe the water away from my eyes and turn to face him. I want to see his expression.

He doesn’t disappoint me. His eyes flash, and I’m treated to a wolfish smile.

“You like this, you dirty girl. Even though you rebelled against it, you like when I tell you what to do. I seem to remember you asking me to do that very thing in the limo last night.”

I start to shake my head, but realize there’s no point in denying it.

“I shouldn’t like it.”

“Fuck shouldn’t,” Creighton growls as he crosses to the shower, stripping off the lounge pants and boxer briefs. He wastes no time grabbing my soaked T-shirt by the hem and pulling it up over my head. It lands on the shower floor with a soggy smack.

His mouth drops to my nipple as his thumbs catch the waist of my underwear. Without lifting his head, he drags them down my legs, and I kick them aside. He pulls away from my breast, his attention riveted on my mouth once more. He takes it. Takes me.

Cupping my butt, he lifts me off my feet. “Wrap your legs around me.”

His erection presses hot, hard, and heavy between my legs. I shift my hips, loving the pressure of it against my clit.

He pulls back for only a moment. “Speak now or forever hold your peace, Mrs. Karas. Because otherwise, I’m going to fuck the hell out of you.”

My nails dig into the solid muscles of his shoulders.

“Please. Now.” They are the only words I can get out before he shifts and presses into me.

I’ve never been this turned on in my entire life. Never.

My eyes flutter shut, but I force them open as my body stretches almost painfully to accommodate Creighton’s size. I want to see the ecstasy twisted in his features.

His thrusts come fast and hard, and the heat of his body is a delicious contrast to the cool tile at my back. Steam fills the air, mingling with my moans of pleasure.

At this angle, every thrust hits a perfect spot, and my orgasm builds with each bit of friction against my clit. I fight against the rising tension, knowing that the longer I wait, the more intense it’s going to be.

Creighton readjusts to hold me up with one arm, and slips a hand between our bodies. The press of his thumb against my clit tears away any resolve I have to wait. I dig my nails into the tanned skin of his shoulders as the climax bursts through me.

My cry echoes through the enclosed space, and I swear I hear him laugh over the blood rushing in my ears. He continues to thrust, the pace increasing with each plunge, until my second orgasm is barreling down on me. My body clenches around him, greedy for every inch I can get.

“Fuuuck,” he yells as he pounds home one . . . two . . . three more times.

His muscles flex and release until we’re both shaking under the hot spray of the shower. His head drops forward, resting on the tile beside mine. My legs are locked around his waist, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to move again. Not sure I ever want to move again. He pulls out before carefully lowering me, and I’m forced to disentangle my limbs from him and let his cock slip from my body.

“Jesus, woman.” He tilts my face up toward his, both hands holding my cheeks. “You’re fucking incredible.”

And then his lips descend on mine once more, but they don’t stay on my lips. They slide down to my chin, my neck, my breasts. Each nipple gets the attention of his teeth and tongue before he drops to his knees and worships my belly, and then my pussy.

I can still feel his cum leaking from my body, but that doesn’t stop him from burying his face between my legs, nipping at my clit and delving inside. His hands clutch my rear, forcing me to use his face for balance. Which I have absolutely no problem with because pleasure is again sparking down my spine, and my knees are dangerously close to giving out.

But when the fingers of one hand skim down the crack of my ass, approaching my no-go zone, I squirm, trying to move away from him.

He tightens his grip, and my squirming is completely useless, except for how it moves me another notch toward orgasm. He went there that night, but I was too drunk on whiskey and pleasure to care or protest.

But now? In the broad and sober light of day? I’m not sure I can handle it.

He looks up, lust and confusion written across his features in equal measure.

“What? You have a problem with me eating your freshly fucked pussy?”

I shiver under his penetrating stare. It misses nothing. As if testing my reaction, those questing fingers lightly cross over the pucker of my ass again, and I try to pull away.