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She’s so confused that I have to fight the urge to scoop her into my arms and hug away all of her doubts and self-loathing. But she has to figure some stuff out for herself, even if I wish I could take away all of her pain.
Everything that’s happened this morning has only strengthened my resolve to help the girls get revenge on their parents. I don’t know the full extent of everything they’ve done to Princess, but I know whatever it was, it was bad—maybe even worse than everything they did to Izzy—and they need to pay a penance for that. Gulliver, Davis, Kip, and I are the heirs to some of the most influential families in America, and between us, I’m sure we can hurt the Rhodeses, we just need to figure out what we can do to inflict the most damage.
“In the shower, Princess,” I say, pushing my hand under the stream to check if it’s warm.
“If we get in the shower, are you going to fuck me?” she asks, the bravado in her voice doing nothing to hide how uncomfortable she is asking for anything sexual.
“No,” I say with a chuckle.
“Then I’ll shower on my own,” she snips, hoisting herself onto the counter and glaring at me indignantly.
Laughing, I step under the stream of water and tip my head back, letting it wash away the remnants of the sticky juice from my chest. I can feel her eyes on me, and when I look at her, I find her gaze focused on my hard dick jutting out from between my legs.
“Why are you hard?” she asks, her cheeks turning pink.
“Because you’re naked,” I answer simply.
“And that’s all it takes?”
Her question is so naïve and adorable that I want to smile, but there’s something about her innocence that’s incredibly sexy. She’s such an odd mix of jaded and guileless, she’s capable of so much bad, but the more I get to know her, the more I question if everything she did was simply because she was so desperate for her parents’ love and support.
“With you, yeah, that’s all it takes,” I confess, watching her expression carefully.
“So if another girl was naked in here…” She trails off.
“I’m not some kid just figuring out what my dick is for, Princess. It takes more than a pair of tits to get me this hard.”
Her lips form an “O’” and she nods slowly.
Grinning at her pink cheeks, I squeeze some shower gel into my hands and slowly wash my chest, abs, and then my dick, taking hold of my length and gripping it tightly as I slide my fist up and down while her greedy eyes watch me.
Her lips part, but the noise of the shower prevents me from hearing the gasp I’m sure she makes. Smirking, I release my dick and quickly wash the rest of my body and hair before stepping out of the shower. Dripping with water, I close the distance between us, pushing between her legs and lifting her from the counter. Roughly grabbing her hair, I drag her head back and kiss her, fighting the urge to slam my cock into her wet cunt.
I’ve never wanted a girl the way I want my Princess. She’s a compulsion, a need, and denying myself now that she’s mine feels wrong on so many levels.
I want to claim her, to stamp my brand on her so the entire world knows she’s mine. But until she believes that I’m hers and that what we’re starting is about so much more than our physical connection, I’m going to withhold sex from both of us.
Sighing, I carry her to the shower and lower her to her feet. Reluctantly releasing her, I take a step back, ignoring the confusion and hurt in her eyes.
“Get clean, we need to get to the hotel and get your stuff because project revenge starts in an hour.”
The lust drains from her face at the mention of anything to do with her parents, and I instantly regret bringing it up. A coldness shutters over her eyes, and I visibly watch her batten down her mental barriers. I want to order her to lower them again, to let me in, to let me see her real, raw and messed up. But I won’t. It wouldn’t be fair for me to use my control over her in that way. Maybe someday she’ll trust me enough to show me herself, maybe not, but either way, it has to be her choice.
Grabbing a towel, I slowly dry myself while she showers. I don’t try to hide that I’m watching her, but unlike me, she doesn’t put on a show. Her movements are mechanical, disconnected, and I question if withholding the physical side of our relationship might be a mistake. I don’t know for sure, but I’d lay money on the fact that Penelope has never been freely given affection. Her parents bartered attention with compliance, and I don’t want her to feel like I’m punishing her by not having sex with her.
Dropping my towel, I open the shower door and step into the stall with her, wrapping my arms around her and hugging her tightly. I feel the hitch in her breath a second before she melts into me, lifting her arms and clinging to me. Leaning back, I cup her cheek and press a hard kiss against her lips, telling her without words that I still want her, that I still need her, that I’m still here and I’m not leaving.
When I eventually pull back, her eyes are glassy, but some of the sadness has faded from them. Without saying a word, I step out of the shower, leaving her to wash her hair while I dry myself all over again.
Wrapping the towel around my waist, I hoist myself up onto the counter and watch while she runs conditioner through her hair. It’s impossible not to notice that there’s not an ounce of body fat on her anyway, her hips are slim, her breasts are small and pert. She’s beautiful, but for the first time I see the fragility in her body. Her hips and collarbones are protruding, and I can clearly make out the outline of each vertebra running down her spine. Maybe after this morning and the food revelations, I’m looking for it, but either way, a sudden urge to protect her and care for her washes over me.
Silently, I vow to help her, even if she leaves me, even if she can’t ever believe in us the way I desperately want her to. I’ll help her anyway, because Penelope Rhodes is somehow becoming my axis, the thing my world revolves around, and I’m helpless to stop it.
When she’s finished with her hair, she turns off the water and steps out of the shower, straight into the towel I’m holding out for her. Wrapping it around her, I gently dry her body as she watches me with unsure eyes.
“I can do this for myself,” she says with a tiny hint of snark.
“I know.” But I don’t stop until her skin is dry and tinged pink from the heat of the water. Taking her hand, I lead her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. “Your clothes are in the closet, the dresser on the right is yours,” I tell her, checking my cell and finding a notification that my delivery is here.
