Стейси Кестуик - Wet

“Assisting you. It’s my fault you’re burned. I had sunscreen on the boat — I should have thought of it. I didn’t even think about your skin being unprotected while you napped on that bean bag.”

Reaching behind my neck, he tugged on the strings of my bikini until the top loosened and fell, exposing my breasts. He sucked in a sharp breath, and I glanced in the mirror. The sharp delineation between my sunburn and my pale chest looked almost cartoonish.

“Fuck, Sadie.” West scooted closer but stopped short of touching me. “That looks worse than I realized. You need to let me help you.”

After undressing and helping me ease my swimsuit bottoms down my legs, he ushered me into the shower and stepped in behind me, blocking the spray from directly hitting my tender skin. Using his hands and some creamy body wash, he bathed me, his touch light as a feather around my shoulders, which seemed to be the worst.

Working efficiently and wincing in sympathy when I hissed out a breath when his fingers scraped a tender area, he soaped me up, rinsed me off, and wrapped me in a fluffy towel before depositing me on the end of my bed. I dragged a brush through my hair and twisted it into a wet bun atop my head. There was no way I was using a hot hair dryer tonight. While I worked on taming my mane, West rummaged around my medicine cabinet and returned with two ibuprofen and a bottle of water to wash it down. I swallowed the small pills and drank most of the bottle before handing it back.

Flicking off the lights when he returned from putting the medicine up, he spread two large towels on top of my quilt and then moved me to the middle of the bed, my damp towel still draped around me. The muted yellow glow of the streetlight filtering through the curtain left most of his face in shadow, making the angles and planes harsher. Holding the oversized bottle of aloe, West settled next to me on the mattress, sympathy coloring his expression. He squirted a glob of the green gel into his palm and twisted to face me.

“Ready?”

I nodded, bracing myself for how cold it was going to feel.

Starting from the top, he smoothed his fingertips over my forehead, down my nose, and across my cheekbones, tracing the contours of my face. I bit my lip, the coolness of the aloe warring with a small spark of arousal as his fingers set off tingles and goose bumps everywhere he touched. His palm slid down my throat, cupping it, before following the curve of my shoulder. I shivered, my nipples hardening into buds under the towel. He worked his way down one arm and then the other, discovering my inner elbows were ticklish in the process. His lips quirked when I drew back, but neither of us broke the silence.

Taking my right hand in both of his, he turned it upwards and dug his thumbs into the meat of my palm, rubbing from the center out. Then he moved higher, working the tender flesh at the base of my fingers and between the joints before finishing with each individual finger from base to tip, never hurrying but taking the time to go over every area two or three times. You know the way your scalp tingles when someone plays with your hair? I was feeling that times a hundred. By the time he had repeated the process on my left hand, I was boneless.

I’d never in my life had a guy spend so much time on just my hands, never realized how erotic it could be, how many nerve endings could light up as his callused fingers abraded my tender skin. My breathing became slower, heavier, and my eyes closed, all of my focus on where our bodies touched.

I missed when he let go, although the dip and sway of the mattress as he shifted around on the bed told me he hadn’t gone far. When he picked up my foot and started a good, old-fashioned rub, I couldn’t stifle the quiet moan that escaped my mouth. His touch wasn’t sexual, but everything about the moment seemed heightened.

The darkened room. The soft rustle of our cotton towels as he moved. The ball of his hand pressing into the arch of my foot. The heavy thud of my heart. It was overwhelming and not enough at the same time.

He gave my toes the same treatment he had my fingers, focusing on each individual digit as well as the soft skin in between. The back of my heels came next and then he started a path up my legs. He pulled my feet into his lap, and his hardness strained against the towel wrapped around his waist. My lips parted.

His strokes became more gentle as he moved upwards, where the sunburn was worse. Knees, thighs. He moved all the way to my bikini line, and I couldn’t help spreading my legs a little. A rough sound left the back of his throat, my motion not going unnoticed.

The towel was suddenly removed, leaving me naked, bare to his eyes. I inhaled sharply. The urge to cover my chest was strong, knowing my stark tan lines looked garish at best, but I forced my hands to stay at my sides.

The chill of the aloe along my collarbones made me gasp in surprise. I’d expected him to still be working from the bottom up. My nipples tightened even further, and I bit my lower lip. He smeared my chest with the aloe, staying clear of my unharmed skin, which meant he touched me everywhere but my aching breasts. His fingers stroked my stomach, tracing the curves of my waist and hips, drifting lower before again stopping where my sunburn ended.

It was such a fucking tease.

I arched my back, reaching for his touch, wanting more. He settled his palm on the rise of my left hip, pushing me back down into the pillowtop mattress. As he stretched out on his side next to me, I reached around him with my right arm and clutched his back, wanting more contact with his warmth. My eyes lowered partway, peering at him hovering over me, his finger drawing a line between my breasts.

He settled a thigh between my spread legs, and I realized his towel was gone. I couldn’t stop my hips from circling, seeking friction, warmth pooling in my core.

His thumb tracing my lip distracted me, and I met his gaze, my own eyes begging.

He breathed my name.

“Please,” I whispered.

He shook his head, his eyes moving down my body. He shifted closer, his lips almost brushing mine. “You’re too burned for fucking, babe. But your best parts—” he skimmed a nipple “—they’re okay. So I’m going to take care of you tonight. Like I said I would.”

I scraped my nails down his back in protest, wanting his heavy weight pressing me into the bed, but he just kissed the tip of my nose before pulling back. Even my lips were burned.

His right arm reached across me, a single finger moving to circle my left breast. He started wide, moving in ever-tightening rings, but stopped short of the eager peak. He teased the other one, until they both felt swollen and heavy, and I squirmed beside him, trying to get his hand where I wanted it most.

“Patience, Sadie. I promise you’ll sleep well tonight by the time I’m through.”

I wrinkled my nose and huffed in annoyance and was rebuked with a sharp pinch to my nipple.

I hissed his name in surprise, narrowing my eyes, but ended on a moan when his lips closed over the tight bud. He mouthed me, licking with the flat of his tongue, his actions a delicious torment. I speared my fingers through his hair, the spiky strands too short to grip properly, my nails raking his scalp and urging him closer. His lips smiled against my hot flesh before tightening over me, pulling and sucking the way I needed him to.

My hips bucked, and my eyes closed, heat coursing through me and settling low.

More, more, more.

The thought was the only one in my head, looping.

He switched sides, and his talented hand cupped the other breast, squeezing it and teasing the sensitive tip. I pulled his head tighter, not wanting to be teased any longer, and he nuzzled closer, his day-old scruff a welcome torment as he buried his head against me.