Chapter 117: Cold Dinner

She still couldn’t look at him. Instead, she reached for one of his arms and gently lowered it, hoping the movement would give her enough room to step away. Her gaze wandered anywhere else.

The shower wall. The water running down his stomach. She could look at his hardened cock without nearly as much difficulty as she could look into his face.

It frightened her.

Dorian took the loofah gently from her hand and placed it back where it belonged. He reached for the controls and shut off the water.

Naomi had not realized how much the sound of the shower had been protecting her until it stopped. Now there was nothing between them except steam, wet skin and silence that made every breath feel too loud.

Dorian turned toward her and began undressing her. His hands moved over the soaked lace, finding the sash first, then the fabric clinging stubbornly to her skin.

Naomi stood still and let him. She should say something. Dinner was getting cold. Her brain supplied one very clear response.

Fuck dinner.

She didn’t want to go downstairs. She wanted to stay exactly where she was, with Dorian’s hands on her and his attention fixed entirely on her. She tried desperately to remember what day of the week it was.

Surely it had to be Saturday. Please let it be Saturday. As if enough concentration could somehow rewind or fast-forward time and save her from having to admit she wanted to break their stupid rule again.

Dorian peeled the wet robe away from her completely and set it aside. Then came the rest. Her lingerie followed, piece by piece, until Naomi stood naked in front of him, still refusing to meet his eyes. He reached for two towels from the rack and handed one to her.

Naomi stared at it. She did not want the towel. She wanted him. Still, she took it and wrapped it around her body.

Dorian tied the other around his waist, then gently guided her out of the bathroom with one hand at her back.

Naomi followed him into the bedroom. He started toward the closet, apparently intending to find something to wear.

As his hand began to slip away from her, Naomi caught it.

Dorian turned to look at her hand holding his and her eyes still avoiding his face. She dropped her towel, stepped closer and nudged him backward until he was standing at the edge of the bed.

Naomi yanked the towel from Dorian’s waist and let it drop to the floor. He barely had time to react before she nudged him backward until he sat on the edge of the bed. Then she climbed onto his lap and straddled him.

He was used to Naomi talking. She talked when she was nervous, when she was excited, when she was annoyed, when she was turned on. Half the time, she seemed to discover what she was thinking at the same moment he did because every thought came straight out of her mouth.

This quiet Naomi frightened him. It felt like she was having an entire conversation inside her head and deliberately refusing to let him hear any of it.

Once she settled against him, she leaned down and kissed his neck. He exhaled slowly. Her fingers moved over his chest, stroking him with a tenderness that felt far more dangerous than anything filthy she could have said. Then her tongue followed, licking slowly over his skin.

His hands tightened at her waist. He was painfully aware that there was absolutely nothing between them. His cock was trapped between their bodies, nestled between her thighs and resting just shy of her heat. His palm slid upward and closed around one of her breasts. His thumb found her nipple and tugged.

Naomi gasped. Then she shoved him backward. Dorian landed flat on the mattress, staring up at her as she remained straddled over him.

She still wasn’t talking. Naomi shifted her hips. Her slit dragged slowly along the length of his cock. She did it again.

The friction made her inhale sharply. Her hands flattened against his chest while she began moving over him, rubbing herself along his length without letting him inside her.

Dorian watched her face change. Her breathing became heavier. Her lips parted. The quiet finally began breaking under the pressure of pleasure. He could feel her getting wetter against him with every movement.

This was dangerous. The need to be inside her was already building fast enough to make every muscle in his body tense. One wrong shift of her hips and whatever self-control he had left would disappear completely.

Dorian caught her waist and held her steady for a moment.

"Please..." she cried softly. She shifted against him again. "Just... please."

Dorian grunted. He released her waist before he did something stupid, curled both hands into the sheets and shut his eyes.

Naomi kept moving. Her slick heat slid along him again and again, and Dorian’s fingers twisted harder into the bedding. She became wetter.

Slipperier.

Her movements grew faster. The soft sounds she had been making turned into frustrated cries as she chased something neither of them was supposed to be doing tonight.

Dorian kept his eyes shut. He could feel every pass of her body over his cock. Every tremble in her thighs.

Every increase in speed.

He knew exactly what she wanted. He wanted the same thing badly enough to make his entire body ache.

Naomi’s cries became more frustrated. Then he felt her hand move between their bodies. Her fingers wrapped around him.

And before Dorian could react, she guided him herself, slipping him in herself. She just couldn’t take it anymore.

Damn the rules. Damn the fucking contract.

Naomi lowered herself onto him, and the first stretch of Dorian inside her stole what little breath she had left.

"Naomi..." he breathed.

There was warning in his voice, mixed in with hunger and relief.

"I’m sorry... I’m sorry." Her voice trembled as she began to move. "I just want you."