He leads me into a bathroom I didn’t see last time I was here and pushes a few buttons on a nearby panel. It’s a walk in shower bigger than my first apartment. Built for more than one, water shoots out of jets from three sides, the top an indulgent oversized rain shower.
“Fancy shower.”
“Hmmm.” He slips off my shirt, his focus shifting from conversation to undressing me.
“Looks like it’s made for more than one.” The hand reaching for my pant zipper freezes and he glances up at me.
“Never took a shower with anyone in here.” I catch that he says in here and it makes my mind start to wonder if that’s why he’s brought me into this bathroom. It shouldn’t matter; I’m no virgin either.
“Or in the other shower,” he says directly into my eyes.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Yes, but you were thinking it.”
I ignore his comment, although I reach for the buttons on his shirt a little happier. “So now you know what I’m thinking?”
“This time. Yes.” He draws down my pants and kneels down, tapping my calf for me to step out. “It would make my day a lot more productive if I knew what you were thinking more often.”
“Are you blaming me for your unproductiveness?”
He unfastens the back of my bra with one hand. The extent of his dexterity removing lingerie doesn’t go unnoticed. “Yes. I’m blaming you for my unproductiveness.” The finger stroking the side of my breast pauses. “I’ve been near idle since I met you.” He looks up at me.
In the moment, I fall a little bit harder for him. The domineering, sexy, authoritative man, who takes command of a room just by walking into it, just admitted I was his kryptonite. I’m barely able to stop myself from launching at him. Instead, I kiss him fiercely. Hard and long, until I’m so lost in his arms that I don’t even realize he’s carried me into the shower.
I love the way we kiss, as if we’ve been starved for each other for weeks, when it was only a matter of hours since he was buried inside of me. We grope and pull, scratch and claw. He bites my lip so hard when I go to pull away for air that it hurts. But it’s a pain that shoots down to the sensitive flesh between my legs, inciting a fire deep inside of me. My hands go to his hair, pulling, wrenching, clenching—needing him closer. I can’t get enough.
One of his hands drops to my ass and he grabs a handful, squeezing hard before he lifts and guides my legs to wrap around his waist. My back hits the cold tile wall, his hand behind my head protecting me from the full extent of the harshness of our actions.
My entire body aches for him. In a way I’ve never experienced. A savage need rumbles in the pit of my stomach that leaves me desperate to feed it. I moan, feeling the full length of his hardness pushed up firmly against my belly. “I want you,” I breathe out against our pressed lips.
“Patience,” he mumbles back.
I arch my back and use the wall to leverage myself, forcing my body lower in an attempt to bring what I want closer. I need him inside of me. He pulls his head back, amused, his mouth curving to a wicked grin. “That will only make it longer until I give you what you want.” He drops his head and sucks my nipple in.
Somewhere between agonizing torture and blissful euphoria he finally concedes. My head falls back, thudding against the tile, and I whimper as he pushes into me. He drives deep, filling me completely, and then stills, claiming my eyes under the same control that he possesses my body before he begins to move. Satisfied with our gaze locked, he sets an unrelenting pace, pulling almost all the way out each time before slamming back into the hollows of my body. The intensity of each stroke is heightened by the emotions I see in his eyes as he watches me, focused keenly on satisfying my needs before his own.
My body wilts as I come, but the way he says my name with a jagged edge as he fills me, never breaking our gaze, leaves me in awe of the passion we are able to ignite. Together. I’d heard the phrase a million times but never really thought it had any truth until this moment. Cooper Montgomery just ruined me for all other men.
chapter twenty-two
Cooper
“My dad died last year. He left my mother and brother drowning in debt. My mom is sick and my brother is disabled.” We’re lying in bed, the room dark, her head snuggled in the crook of my shoulder as her finger traces light circles on my pec. “My brother and I were in an accident a few years ago. I was the only one who walked away.” Her voice cracks with a sadness that wraps around my heart and squeezes. “I applied to the show because of the prize. I didn’t really give it much thought. I guess I never thought they’d pick me as a contestant.”
I already know everything she’s confessing, but it means a lot that she decides to share it with me. I kiss the top of her forehead. “I’m sorry. How bad is it?”
“The house is mortgaged for more than it’s worth and there was barely any life insurance after they deducted the loans my father had taken. He was an all-or-nothing type of man. Didn’t do things halfway. It was great when he was on a winning streak. But when he was losing, he didn’t stop until he had nothing left but the shirt on his back. He was missing the in-between gene.”
“And your brother?”
“He’s doing okay, health-wise at least, right now. We don’t burden him with any of the financial stuff. He’s already been burdened more than any other teenager should have to be.”
“Will the prize money get them out of debt, or is it just a temporary fix?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On if I make it to the final four or the end. The final four is a Band-Aid. The end makes the problem go away.”
“I see the way he looks at you. You’re definitely making the final four.”
“I thought you didn’t stay to watch today?” She lifts, perching her head up on her elbow, and looks down at me.
Time for a little of my own confessions. “I’ve been sort of watching the dailies of the show every morning.”
“Sort of?”
“Maybe ‘sort of’ isn’t the right term.”
“What would be the right term?”
“‘Religiously’ might work.”
“You’ve been religiously watching the dailies of the show every morning?”
“Hence the unproductiveness I mentioned earlier.”
We’re both quiet for a while, and then I say what I’ve been thinking about since Damian Fry delivered the background report on Kate and her family. “Let me help you.”
“What do you mean?”
I shift, easing her to her back, and sift my fingers through her loose hair. “I’ll give you the money you need.”
“That’s sweet. But I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t take money from you, Cooper.”
“Then consider it a loan. You can pay me back someday.”
“I’ll never be able to pay you back. The bank was right in turning down my application. My student loans will strangle me for the next ten years.”
“I can’t watch you with him, Kate.”
“So stop watching.”
“You act like I have a choice.”
“You do. It’s easy. Don’t press play. Plus, there hasn’t been anything happening worth watching.”
“He’s in love with you.”
“He is not. But even if he was, it wouldn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. Were you telling me the truth when you said you haven’t slept with him?”
“Is that what you think of me? I’m lying here in bed with you. Do you think I’d be doing that if I was sleeping with him?”
“I can’t think straight anymore, Kate.” I yank through my hair.
“That’s why this wasn’t a good idea.” She rolls away from me and sits up. “I shouldn’t have come.”
Like a fool, I say nothing, instead only watch as she goes to the bathroom and comes out dressed. “I called a cab,” she says quietly, her eyes purposefully avoiding mine. “But then I realized I don’t know your address.”