Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [73]
Ares’s fingers sifted through her hair in long, soothing strokes. Gradually, her lids grew heavy, and she closed her eyes, slumping against him as her muscles loosened. This was very calming, yet at the same time, her pulse was thundering in her ears and sprinting through her veins. The brand on her chest was tingling. And between her legs, heat was building.
Ares took his time rinsing her hair.
“There must be a lot of shampoo,” she murmured.
“Yeah,” he said, and was it her imagination, or had his voice cracked a little? “I’m thorough that way.”
“Mmm.”
He brought his palm to her cheek to wipe away the water. “Anywhere else you need to be washed?”
Her eyes flew open. A “no” formed on her lips, but no sound came out. The way he was looking at her… this time, his expression was as readable as a large-print book. Hunger burned in his eyes. His gaze held hers captive, and she became achingly hyperaware of a growing anticipation.
She licked her lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth, zeroed in on the tongue action. Inside her head, she pleaded for him not to kiss her. But she lifted her face and pushed herself up on her toes, surprised that her legs were no longer shaky.
“This is stupid,” Ares whispered, even as he lowered his head, slowly, until only a whisper-thin layer of steamy air separated their lips. She could have pulled away. Should have. But for the first time in a long time, she finally felt safe. How crazy was it that she felt safe in the arms of a man who could break her in half with a flick of his wrist, a man whom the entire world regarded with fear and horror?
Oh, but his lips were soft when they finally made contact. At first, he merely brushed his mouth over hers. A shivery sensation spread from every point of contact between them, electrifying her entire body. Gone was the fatigue that had weighed her down. She felt as if she could run a marathon. Heck, she felt as if she already had, with the way her pulse was racing.
He increased the pressure on her lips, alternating light kisses with nibbles and soothing strokes of his tongue until she moaned. As if her sound of desperation had unlocked something, he got serious. His tongue delved between her lips, demanding entrance. God, no one had ever kissed her this way, so masterfully that she opened up without hesitation. Their tongues met, tangled as he deepened the kiss. His hand gripped a handful of her hair as the other wound around her waist to tug her even closer. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his arms.
With a great surge, he backed her into the wall. The kiss grew fiercer. He was stroking, sucking, and his breathing became as ragged as hers. He dropped one hand to her thigh and lifted her right foot onto the bench, putting her core in contact with his arousal. They both groaned.
In this position, water poured directly onto Ares’s back and neck, cascading over his shoulders in wide rivulets that formed rivers in the deep valleys of his muscles. He was beautiful, perfect, and the way he undulated against her in the most primal of male responses brought a purr of pure female appreciation rising up in her chest.
His hand smoothed up her thigh to cup her butt, and oh, yes, that was good. His other hand slid up her rib cage until his fingers reached her breast, his thumb rasping back and forth over her nipple. He kept kissing her, his tongue flicking against hers, and those agonizingly wonderful little nips on her lower lip drove her to dizzying heights.
She ground against his rigid length, losing herself in the steam of the shower, the heat of his kiss, the luxury of his touch. This was so decadent, and she was so into it that she let her head fall back so he could kiss his way down her chin and jaw to her throat. When his hand left her breast to slide south, she dragged her own hands up his back, mapping the different textures, the taut layers of muscle.
“Cara.” His hot breath fanned against her skin, and his voice vibrated through her in an erotic wave.
“Mm-hmm?”
His hand