by Maya Banks
into a thin line that led to his navel and below to the dark thatch at his groin.
His cock was semi-erect, and this time she couldn’t look away. She remembered all too well how he’d tasted, how he’d felt sliding over her tongue, between her lips. She closed her eyes to banish the images of that night.
“Ditch the underwear, Reggie.”
Her eyes flew open again.
“You and I have a date with the shower.”
Hesitantly, she hooked her thumbs into the thin band of her panties and began inching them down. They fell to the floor at her feet, and Sawyer again held out his hand to her.
Her legs trembled as she tucked her fingers into his. He pulled her into the shower after him and positioned her under the spray.
She closed her eyes as water coursed over her face. When she opened them again, Sawyer was staring fiercely at her, his eyes glittering like ice chips.
He framed her face in his hands, his thumbs resting on her cheekbones. Then he backed her against the wall of the shower as his lips descended to hers.
His body pressed in against hers, covering her and molding her softness to his hard contours. He didn’t simply kiss her. He devoured her. Hot and hungry, with a restless, desperate need that left her aching.
His hands shook against her face. He moved from her lips to her eyes, pressing light kisses against her lids and then her cheeks and to her ears. Then he stopped and buried his face in her neck.
His cock, swollen and hard, butted against her belly. Burning. His heat, combined with that of the water, singed her skin like a firestorm.
“I almost lost you,” he whispered so low she almost didn’t hear over the water.
No longer willing to play a passive role, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders then slid one hand up the column of his neck to cup the back of his head.
He raised his head, and her hands fell away. Raw emotion bubbled in his eyes. There was so much fear. She felt an uncomfortable twinge in the vicinity of her heart.
“You didn’t lose me.”
He gathered her hands in his and raised them to his lips, turning one over to press a gentle kiss to her palm.
Water beaded and rolled down his broad chest, and she followed the rivulet with her gaze until it slithered past his protruding cock.
Her fingers tingled with the need to touch him, to reach out and grasp the hard flesh, but to her surprise he simply turned her around and reached for the soap.
He washed every inch of her skin. Every scrape, every bruise, each pinkened spot from the heat of the blast. His hands slid down her body with ease, to her belly, and then he paused and inched them back up to her breasts.
He cupped the mounds and brushed his thumbs across the taut points of her nipples. A small gasp escaped her parted lips. He continued to gently knead the globes, lathering the soap in bubbly circles.
Then he placed both hands flat against her body and smoothed them downward, over her abdomen. He skimmed over the wet curls between her legs to the inner portion of her thighs.
The edges of his fingers brushed ever so softly over her pussy as he worked his way in and then down the inside of her legs.
He knelt on one knee and picked up one small foot, placed it on his other knee and soaped it with infinite care.
As long as she lived, she’d never forget the image of this big man kneeling in the shower, almost humbly as he washed her feet. There was such reverence, such love and concern in his actions, his every touch and caress.
Tears burned the corners of her eyes.
She was a fool for running for so long.
When he’d finished both feet, he rose and reached for the shampoo. He squeezed a generous amount into his hands and gently worked it into her hair, taking care around the gash at her hairline.
There was a slight pinch as he ran his thumb over the cut to wash the dried blood away. She tried to control the wince but her eye twitched.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the cut. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She smiled and reached up to wipe the soap from his mouth. “It’s okay.”
“Turn around so I can rinse.”
He kept his hands on her shoulders as she slowly rotated. She turned her face up into the spray and let the water fall over her head. Sawyer’s fingers threaded through her hair and separated the strands.
He slid one hand over her cheek and underneath her chin. Carefully, he pulled back until her head rested on his chest and she was staring up into his eyes. He lowered his mouth to her forehead and closed his eyes.
She rested comfortably there, content to let his strength surround her. Finally he reached over to turn the water off. He put his hands on her hips and slowly slid them up her body, over her arms and up to her shoulders. He squeezed once and then reached over to open the shower door.
To her surprise, Cam was waiting. He swept her into his arms, wrapping a warm towel around her body as Sawyer dried off and dressed in a pair of shorts. She stared up at Cam as he proceeded to pat the moisture from her skin.
He took one end of the towel and carefully dried the area around the cut on her head then dabbed at the gash itself. As Sawyer had done in the shower, Cam placed a gentle kiss over the wound.
Unable to resist the warmth of his embrace, she snuggled into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. He stiffened the slightest bit before she felt him relax again.
The towel was trapped between them, and Sawyer was getting a prime view of her ass, but she didn’t care. She burrowed her face into Cam’s soft T-shirt and bumped her head underneath his chin.
“Sorry,” she mumbled against his chest.
His arms crept around her, and he squeezed tightly. “Never apologize for this, Reggie darling. I’ve waited a long time for it.”
She sighed and rubbed her cheek against him, closing her eyes as contentment invaded her heart.
He kissed the top of her head. “Come on, let’s get you back into the bedroom.”
He pulled away and carefully wrapped the towel around her, tucking the end between her breasts.
She started back into the bedroom, Cam and Sawyer following. Hutch was standing by the bed, and he motioned her over.
She gave the towel spread out over the bed a puzzled look as she walked toward Hutch’s outstretched arm.
“Take the towel off,” he murmured.
Her gaze flew to his, and she clutched her arms over the seam of the towel. His stare bored into her, peeling away that towel effortlessly. She felt naked, and she hadn’t even relinquished her hold on it.
“Just do it, Reggie,” he said patiently.
He was asking her to trust him. To believe that they wouldn’t push her to do anything she didn’t want. Why he wanted her naked, she wasn’t sure, but she would never give him the idea that she didn’t trust him. She did.
Slowly, she unwrapped the towel and let it pool at her feet. His gaze held steady with hers, never moving or falling to her body. The soft green of his eyes glowed in the light. Radiated a yearning for something that sex just didn’t cover.
“Lay down,” he said softly. “On your belly, but only if it doesn’t hurt your ribs.”
She put a knee on the bed and climbed up, crawling to the center of the towel. She eased down, testing her body for soreness as she settled into the soft mattress.
“Put your arms up, baby. Rest them on the pillow at your head.”
Her hands slid over the sheets until they collided with the plump pillows. The bed dipped, first on her left and then on her right and then again at her feet. She was too comfortable to lift her head to investigate.
Warm hands, slick with oil, glided over her skin, sending shivers up her spine to the nape of her neck. The tiny little hairs stood on end as goose bumps threaded their way through her scalp.
Loving, gentle, exquisitely tender, they stroked—petting, rubbing, massaging tired, sore muscles. She knew their touch, each individual, knew b
y the way they touched her.
Sawyer was to her left, his fingers firm, rubbing deeper, blatantly sensual as he skimmed across her back to the globes of her ass. He trailed a finger across the seam to the small of her back and down again. He palmed one cheek, massaging in a slow, circular motion before turning his attention to the other.
Cam was at her feet, attending each leg, kneading her calves, down to her ankles and ultimately to her feet. His touch was seeking, inquisitive, mellow, like him.
She moaned as he dug deep into the arch. He placed his palm against her heel and pressed his thumb into the center of her foot. She existed in a warm haze, a euphoric shimmer that clouded her eyes, blurring her vision.
Hutch was to her right, both hands settled on top of her shoulders, his thumbs pressed against the column of her neck. He worked his fingers higher, into her damp hair, digging into her scalp and working sheer magic.
At this rate she’d be comatose in five minutes.
Lips replaced hands, and a shudder rolled over her body. A gentle kiss to the nape of her neck. One at the back of her knee. One at the small of her back and then lower, just below the cheek of her ass.
Husky breaths blew over her between the featherlight kisses. A warm tongue pressed at the cleft just above her behind and trailed up her spine.
She shivered uncontrollably.
The mouth at her neck opened wider. Teeth grazed the sensitive skin below her ear. One nip. Two.
Lips closed over one small toe, sucking lightly, the tongue warm over her skin.
A ragged groan worked from the depths of her chest. It was the headiest, most pleasurable sensation she’d ever experienced. She felt loved. Cherished. Such simple, loving actions.
She was awash in need. Craving.
Once again their hands moved across her skin. Then they were gone. She whimpered in protest, and the bed moved, dipping and swaying beneath her.
“Turn over, honey,” Sawyer whispered in her ear.
She couldn’t muster the energy to move.
He tugged at her shoulder, helping her rotate. She saw Hutch holding a glass of water in one hand, and she knew what was coming.
“Take it,” Hutch urged.
She didn’t want to zone out on a painkiller. She very much wanted to stay in the here and now. Wanted them to continue touching her.
“We aren’t going anywhere, Reggie darling. Take it.”
Cam’s husky voice slid sensuously over her, wrapping her in a comforting blanket. With Sawyer’s help, she sat up and took the small pill Hutch held out to her. She downed it in one swallow then handed the glass back to Hutch.
“Do you want a T-shirt to sleep in?” Sawyer asked.
She shook her head. She wanted them against her. Skin on skin. She found Sawyer’s gaze and then looked down to Cam and then back to Hutch. “Stay with me?”
“Always,” Hutch said evenly.
Sawyer lifted her easily from the bed, and Cam balled the towel up and hurled it across the room toward the bathroom. Hutch pulled back the sheets, and Sawyer set her down again in the center.
Then he climbed in beside her. She turned on her side and snuggled back against his chest. He put an arm around her and spooned up against her, his groin cupped against her bottom.
In front of her, Hutch stood at the side of the bed undressing. He stripped down to his boxers then lifted the sheet and crawled in next to her. Sawyer moved his arm so that it wasn’t between her and Hutch and instead rested it down the length of her leg.
She looked for Cam, wondering how he’d fit. She wanted him here. He lay across the end of the bed and put a hand over her blanket-covered foot. He squeezed reassuringly and smiled.
“Go to sleep, Reggie darling. God knows you need it. Tomorrow . . . tomorrow we’ll talk about it all and figure things out.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, savoring their connection. Then slowly, her gaze drifted back up Hutch’s body, and she found him staring back at her.
He moved his hand to cup her cheek and then moved his mouth to cover hers in a gentle kiss.
“Do as Cam says, baby.”
He trailed a finger down her cheek and kissed her one last time.
Sawyer’s body, molded so tightly to hers . . . Hutch in front of her, barely an inch separating them, and Cam at her feet, his hand reassuringly on her leg . . . she wasn’t sure it could be more perfect than this or that anything else would ever feel so right.
CHAPTER 18
Regina came awake with a gasp. Sweat dampened her body, and despite the heat emanating from the two men sleeping on either side of her, she shivered.
The nightmare still lurked on the edge of her consciousness, but it wasn’t about her. She hadn’t seen images of her dying in an explosion.
The terror that surrounded her, gripped her throat, was because in her tormented dreams, it had been Hutch, Cam and Sawyer who had been threatened. It was them in the vehicle when it blew up.
Nausea welled in her stomach and she sat up, the covers stretching and pulling as she clutched them to her breasts.
She glanced to one side and then the other to see Sawyer and Hutch sleeping. When she looked to the end of the bed, she noticed that Cam had gotten up.
Her panic wouldn’t subside. The dream had been too real.
She released the covers and then carefully climbed over them on her hands and knees to the end of the bed. She eased off and quietly picked up Hutch’s shirt from the floor. On quiet feet, she headed for the door, pulling the T-shirt over her head as she went.
Cam’s door was open across the hall, but the light wasn’t on. She slipped inside, leaving the door wide open in her haste. The bed was empty and wasn’t unmade.
She tried to swallow back her panic. She was being completely unreasonable. But locked inside was the compulsion to find Cam, to make sure he was all right.
Her hand slid up her chest to her clammy neck as she reentered the hallway and headed for the stairs. She gripped the railing with her right hand as she descended on shaky feet.
The living room and kitchen were dark. Where was he?
Then she remembered the office located off the formal dining room. Maybe he was there.
She walked through the dining room, across the polished wood floors. Relief rose up, sharp and all-consuming, when she saw the door ajar to the office and light emanating from within.
Her fingers glanced off the surface as she fumbled for the knob. The door swung open, and she looked in to see Cam sitting at his desk going over drawings.
He looked up when she stepped in.
“Reggie, what are you doing up?”
He pulled his glasses off with one hand and set them down in front of him with a frown. When she just stood there, feeling a little stupid but tremendously relieved just to see him and know he was all right, he got up and walked over to her.
“Are you okay? What are you doing down here?” he asked. He reached out and touched her cheek, frowned again and threaded his fingers through her damp hair.
“Bad dream,” she croaked.
He drew her into his arms and rested his chin on top of her head. “I’m sorry. Can I get you anything? You want something to eat or drink?”
You. She just wanted him. Wanted to stay this way for a little longer, until the paralyzing aftereffects of the dream faded.
She shook her head against his chest then pulled slightly away despite her desire to stay nestled in his arms. “Am I disturbing you? Weren’t you working?”
He smoothed her hair from her cheek. “You’re never bothering me, Reggie darling. I was just working on some plans.”
“Want company?” she asked hopefully. Even sitting here watching him work seemed preferable to returning to her dreams.