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21
No shower anywhere had ever felt as good as this one did. Sofia was convinced of that. She turned the water temperature up again and luxuriated in the streams flowing down on her and the steam rising up around her. Ian’s en suite shower stall was wonderfully big. Well, he was a big guy. It stood to reason he’d need a large shower, just like he needed a large bed.
Despite the blessed heat, she shivered. It had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with anticipation—she’d be sharing that bed tonight. And every night from now on. There’d been no suggestion of her returning to the guest bedroom.
Sofia turned to make the water course down and wash away the tension still gripping her. Every muscle in her body had been tense every single second Mateo had held her captive, and that stiffness was taking time to dissipate. Now, if only someone were around who was interested in helping her relax…
As if her desire had summoned him, Ian was there, on the other side of the glass door, visible through the steam. A slow grin curved his face, matching the one she felt shaping hers, but one thing was amiss. Sofia pulled her features into a frown. “Why are you still dressed?” she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the beat of the water.
His smile grew as he stripped, revealing his hewn body, his muscles bunching and flexing, his tattoos moving, looking like living things, as he removed each item of clothing and stepped inside the glass cubicle beside her.
“I’ve been thinking about this for hours,” he said.
“Of a shower?” Sofia asked, trying to keep a straight face.
“Of sharing a shower with you,” he corrected. “Of bathing you, taking care of you…making you forget what you went through.”
She wanted that too.
“Turn around.” Ian made a circle with his finger and a little confused, Sofia obeyed.
A second later she was sighing in pleasure at the soft splash of body wash on her shoulders and his strong hands massaging it into her locked muscles. An “Ohhh,” sighed from her when Ian’s firm thumbs rubbed into the back of her neck, dealing with the tension there. She rolled her head and it lolled forward.
“That it. Let it all go and just focus on this.”
On us.Neither needed to say it when it was clear they were both thinking it. Sofia gave herself over to his hands kneading the tension from her. She sighed again. Ian slid his soapy hands along her arms and brought her hands up to place them against the tiled wall. If Sofia was puzzled for a second, Ian let his actions explain, when he stroked down the sides of her body, then her hips, then the outsides of her legs. She needed the support of a solid wall to stay upright against the onslaught of sensation every time he touched her.
Ian paused, leaving Sofia waiting and wanting, the nerve endings he’d awoken in her body zinging, before he slid a hand up the inside of one leg, from ankle to thigh. He stopped before he reached the top of her thigh, ignoring her wriggling, then worked his way down the other leg.
The tease!she thought. And for someone who wanted her to relax, he sure was getting her wound up. Then, just as she was wondering what he’d do next, he slipped his hands down to her ass. When he molded his palms around her curves, she bit her lip to stop herself crying out.
“I’ve never told you how much I love your sexy ass,” he said, his voice deep and low. He made slow, circular motions with both hands on her cheeks. “When you wear those blue jeans… Oh boy.”
Ian closing his teeth over her earlobe and tugging on it had her curling her fingers into her palms in reaction.
Before she could say anything, his hands were gone, leaving her body wanting to shiver, despite the heat of the water cascading over her. Those strong hands turned her to face him, and he drank his fill of her body, the flames in his eyes firing heat through her.
“Let’s get you rinsed off,” he murmured, and unhooked the showerhead to play the water over her, sending any last traces of soap or body wash sliding from her skin. “Don’t want this side to feel neglected, now do we?”
“It’s not neg—” she started to say, before the gleam in his eyes as he returned the showerhead to its rest and told her he had something in mind.
His eyes on her, he cupped her breast and closed his mouth over the taut nipple, scraping it with his teeth and working it into a tight bud. Sofia’s hands flew to his shoulders to steady herself—what he was doing to her was making her weak at the knees.
Just when she was about to cry out from the pleasure his mouth on her breast was bringing, he switched to the other, subjecting it to the same torture, and this time, she couldn’t hold in her cry.
He raised his head. “Want something, Sofia?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Need something,” she confessed. “You. Me. Bed. Now.” For a teacher who prided herself on her communication skills, he’d somehow managed to turn her into an inarticulate ball of sensations and demands.
With a, “Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” Ian shut off the water and opened the cubicle door, ushering Sofia out before him. In the bathroom, he took a large fluffy towel and dried her, the scrape of the fabric arousing her more.
“Ian,” she started to protest. It wasn’t necessary to dry every last inch of her, to linger on each dip and curve. Whatever she’d been about to tell him ended in an undignified squeak when he swept her into his arms and strode for the bedroom like a warrior carrying a hard-won prize he’d never relinquish.
And Sofia, who’d prided herself on never needing a man, was proud to love this one. She marveled that the heat blazing in her was a perfect match for the hunger in his gaze, and the knowledge that he loved and needed her just as much as she did him thrilled her from her head down to her toes.
She squealed when he dropped her into the middle of his big bed. “Hey!” she protested. “Warn a lady when you’re carrying her that your arms are about to give out!”
“What? You’re calling me weak?” Ian tilted his head to survey her. “Is this a challenge, to get me going?”
