“No, baby. You know that’s not true. Now come let me wash you and look after those cuts and bruises.”

Smash. Smash. Smash. He tore the drawer apart. He loved her compassion and yet he hated it if it meant the last time he touched her he would be in pain.

“I’ll shower with you so I can look after you properly.” She clasped the bottom of her T-shirt and tugged it over her head. Zane froze mid-strike, his primal instincts sharpening at the sight of her skin and her beautiful breasts encased in blue satin.

“I don’t want your help.” He threw the remnants of the drawer across the room.

“Too bad. And if you can’t do it for you, then do it for me.” Evie undid her bra and tossed it on the bed with her shirt. “It will make me … feel better.” She slid her jeans and panties over her hips and then kicked them off. Gloriously naked, quietly confident, undaunted by his rage, she turned into the bathroom. “Come on.”

Zane’s body shook, torn between going after his woman and unleashing his frustrations on the rest of the furniture.

Don’t go in. He knew what would happen if he followed her, and it wouldn’t involve standing still while she treated his wounds. And with his heart raw and exposed, he didn’t think he could handle that level of intimacy without totally losing control. With a growl, he ripped out another drawer, and hammered it against the wall until it shattered, pieces flying in all directions. Exhausted, he sank down on the bed, the ruins of the drawers scattered at his feet, his muscles quivering at the exertion. He could hear the shower behind him, feel the breath of steam, smell the floral fragrance of shampoo.

Evie.

Loves me.

Leaving me.

Overwhelmed with the need to touch her, he stripped off his clothes, all thoughts of staying away forgotten beneath the desire to hold her in his arms one last time.

Evie turned when he stepped into the shower, rivulets of water streaming over her beautiful body. “Took you long enough. Did you break all the drawers?”

Words deserted him. He took her in his arms and held her against him, his cock, painfully erect, pressed against her soft belly.

“It’s okay,” she murmured against his chest, her arms tightening around him.

He didn’t know how long they stood under the warm water, but his heart finally slowed its frenetic beat and the tension eased from his body.

“You’re mine.”

“And you’re mine. That won’t change.” She slid her hands up his chest ever so gently to circle his neck.

She was right about that. Nothing would change. He would find a way. He would fight for her until he couldn’t fight anymore.

“Let me take care of you now.” She soaked the washcloth and then gently rubbed it over his body, washing away the dried blood, cleaning carefully over his bruises. She kept her bottom lip tight between her teeth, and when she looked up he couldn’t tell if the drops on her cheeks were water or tears. Her hands were soft on his skin, gentle, and the warm water eased muscles that had been taut for days.

“I love your body.” Her hands smoothed soap down his back, over his ass. His cock was stiff and hard despite his emotional turmoil, aching for her touch, the slick heat of her pussy, the need to reassert his claim to her body. “So strong. So hard. Perfect. When I touch you, I feel safe.”

Not safe enough, or she wouldn’t be running away.

When her breast brushed against his chest, he couldn’t take anymore. Turning, he pulled her into his arms. “You are safe. I will always keep you safe, always take care of you.”

He started with her lips, gently tracing over them with his finger, then licking them clean. He slid soapy hands over her cheeks and her neck, and then he moved to her breasts, cupping and squeezing them beneath the running water until she arched beneath his touch.

“I think I’m clean there now,” she panted.

He knelt in front of her, kissing his way over her stomach, lapping water droplets from her skin, and the soft red-gold down over her mound. Her hands tightened in his hair when he gently parted her legs and eased her back against the wall. Then he lifted her knee, opening her to him. “Over my shoulder.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Only hurting that will happen is if you don’t let me love you.”

She did as he asked, locking her heel against his back, and he leaned forward and licked the sweet petals of her folds.

“Oh, God.” Her leg tightened, drawing him closer and he licked again, tasting her honey as water slid over his cheeks. His cock throbbed under the pounding spray as he sucked and teased up and around her clit. She rocked her hips against his mouth, but he wanted more from her. He wanted everything.

She was his. And he wanted her body and soul.

*   *   *

“Hold on to the showerhead. Don’t let go.”

Evie’s breath hitched. No hands meant no control. And this was supposed to be her show, her way of giving back to him. But she sensed he needed her like this, needed to take back some control. She reached up and his warm smile sent a wave of arousal through her slick, wet body.

Still, she wasn’t prepared when he pushed a thick finger inside her. Her breath left in a rush, her back bowing as she rocked to meet his thrusts. Water jets teased her sensitive nipples, before splashing against his forehead, but he was relentless, his finger sliding in and out as his tongue circled her clit, sensation building on sensation, until there was nothing but the incessant demand of her body for more.

Zane added a second finger, stretching her, his fingertips pulsing against her sensitive inner tissue. Pressure built within her, not the usual rush to the peak, but a slow, steady roll, deep in her core. Her back arched away from the cold wall. Her leg locked on his shoulder. Her hands gripped the showerhead so hard she feared it would tear away from the wall. And when he flicked his tongue over her clit then nipped it gently, timing it to the deepest thrust of his fingers, she let go, her climax tearing a low, guttural groan from her throat, her body shuddering over and over as he drew out her orgasm with slow, shallow pulses of his fingers.

“So beautiful,” he said softly. “I’ve wanted to see you restrained since the moment we met again, even if you were doing it yourself.”

Yeah, she’d always figured her Zane had a kinky side. But she never thought she did, too.

His gaze dropped to the curls at the juncture of her thighs and her body trembled with need. Just that look, the heat of his gaze, was enough to send a tremor of excitement through her. And when he stood, curved his hands under her breasts, the rough calluses scraping over her sensitive skin, she thought she might come again just from the erotic burn.

He pushed her breasts together and sucked one nipple, then the other, his tongue unrelenting as it lashed back and forth. Her head fell back, and she went up on her toes, pain and pleasure mixing until she couldn’t tell where one finished and the other began.

“I could spend all day worshiping your beautiful breasts,” he murmured. “I could spend a lifetime worshiping you.”

Overwhelmed by sensation and the loss of control, she strained toward him until his erection pressed against her stomach.

“I need you.”

“Then spread your legs for me, sweetheart. Let me in.” He moved one hand down her body and teased around her folds, circling her entrance. A tremor ran through her and she angled her hips trying to urge him inside her. The constant stream of water over her clit sent a buzz through her head and she moaned her desperate need for release.

“Gotta get a condom.” He moved to leave and she grabbed his hand.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill.” She looked away, not wanting to see his expression. She trusted him that much, and yet she was still walking away. God, what was she doing?