I Saved the Man He Shot, So the Mob Boss Kept Me novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: Shower

I woke on Monday to the sound of water running behind a door.

The room was gray with early light.

The baby monitor from Hugh's room sat on the dresser with its volume low.

I could hear the night nurse humming and turning a page.

Nikos was not in the bed.

I pulled his shirt off the chair and went toward the sound.

The bathroom was white tile and steam.

He stood under the shower with his back to me and his hands braced on the wall.

Water ran over the broad slope of his shoulders and down the long muscles of his back.

I stood in the doorway and let myself look.

"I can feel you there," he said, without turning.

"Good."

I dropped his shirt on the floor and stepped in.

The water was hot, and the stall was small enough that his bulk filled it.

I put my arms around his waist from behind and set my cheek between his shoulder blades.

He turned his head.

"Lena."

"Turn around."

He turned.

I tipped my face up, and he bent and took my mouth with the water running over both of us.

It was slow, and deep, and then it was not slow.

His hands slid down my back and gripped my ass, and he lifted me off the floor.

I locked my ankles behind his back.

He pressed me against the wet tile and held me there with his hips and one arm.

His other hand shoved the hair out of my face.

The tile was cold and he was hot, and I gasped at the shock of it.

"Too cold?" he asked, against my mouth.

"Don't you dare move me."

He laughed, low, and kissed my throat.

I could feel him hard against me, thick and heavy, nudging my entrance.

"I need you inside me," I said.

"Say it again."

"Nikos. Fuck me. Now."

He shifted his grip so that both big hands cupped my thighs from underneath.

He held my full weight with no strain at all.

He lowered me onto him, slowly, and I felt every inch go in.

I threw my head back against the tile and cried out.

"God, you feel good," he said, rough. "You feel so good."

"Yes."

"Look at me."

I looked.

His hair was plastered to his forehead and water ran off his jaw.

His eyes were black and fixed on me.

He started to move.

It was a slow drag out, and then a long push in, and each time my back slid a little up the wall.

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