Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Moderation.
Control.
Resistance.
I’ll need all of it if I’m going to stick to the plan. “Do you need to pee?”
She grins. “A little. Are you going to help me?”
I nod. “Come on.” I help her stand. She tests out her ankle and says it’s a little better, but still tender. I help her into the bathroom and sit her down on the toilet with her pants still on. “I’ll let you take it from here.”
She smiles. “Okay. I’ll summon you when I’m done.”
“Alright.”
I hear the toilet flush a few moments later. “Mr. Prince. I require your aid!”
I grin and go in. She’s sitting on the toilet in a princess-like pose with her pants pulled up, her legs crossed at the thigh, and her fingers laced over one knee. “Remove me from this toilet at once!”
I help her up, then hesitate. “Are you going to be able to get yourself ready for the day by yourself?”
“Well,” she says. “I usually shower.”
Fuck.
She meets my eyes, and I can see the mischief there. It makes me wonder if her ankle still hurts too bad for her to walk, or if this is like when she supposedly didn’t know how to hit a hockey puck and needed lessons.
“You know we agreed to sleep together,” she says. “Basically. I think you seeing me naked wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
God damn. I’m not sure there’s a man on the Earth who could say no in this moment. I’m staring at the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. Big eyes, innocent but deadly smile, a body built to destroy me, and she’s asking me to help her shower?
“I’ll just… help you get clean. Nothing more than that.”
“Okay.” She sits back on the toilet and pulls her shirt over her head, cheeks going red.
I look away by instinct.
“You can watch,” she says. She pauses, voice more quiet and husky now. “I want you to watch.”
Jesus Christ. I’m not sure if a dick can explode from excessive blood flow, but I think I’m about to find out if she keeps this up. I drag my eyes to her and suck in an involuntary breath. She has already unbuttoned the top of her jeans and I can see the hint of her panties behind the zipper.
“Do you mind helping?” she asks. “I’m crippled.
She sticks out a leg and waits. She’s still wearing her bra but her shirt is on the floor beside her.
I reach in the shower and start the water for her, then I reluctantly take the leg of her jeans and give it a tug. I’m more careful with her injured ankle, and I manage to get them off of her but have to have her stand up. She leans against me and we both laugh as the project of undressing her proves to be quite the challenge when she’s on one leg.
I get her bra off, even though I’m fairly sure she could do this part by herself. The fabric falls away and her breasts fall free, bouncing once in a way that I’m pretty sure is going to be etched into my memory for all of eternity. My eyes fall to the hardened points of her nipples and the soft, supple flesh.
I lift a hand and then stop myself.
She’s grinning at me. “He wants to touch, does he?” she asks.
I shake my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“So are you. Just touch them. They’re only boobs.” She wiggles them in my face, making a face that is supposed to be silly instead of sultry, but it has the intended effect either way.
I cup both of her breasts and sigh with relief. I’ve wanted to do this ever since they slipped out of her towel that first day. Maybe it wasn’t that long ago. How long was it, anyway? Two weeks? Either way, it feels like a fucking eternity.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
“Usually,” she whispers up to my ear. I’ve just been enjoying the feeling of her breasts in my hands for several long moments. “I take off my panties before I shower. Do you mind?”
I already feel my intentions completely failing. Instead of simply reaching down and mechanically taking her panties off, my hands slide down her body, tracing her curves. I hook my thumbs in the elastic and guide the fabric down her body. I watch goosebumps rise up all over her skin.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” I growl.
“Maybe,” she admits.
And then all I can do is watch with amazement as she walks on her injured ankle into the shower, showing me her perfect ass at the same moment she shows me she has been capable of walking on her own all morning.
I laugh in astonishment as she looks over her shoulder, running her hands through her hair as the steamy water soaks it. “Wow. It’s not as sore as I thought this morning. Whoops.”