Sea Storm: Children of the Waves by Thompson LaVerne

Author:Thompson, LaVerne [Thompson, LaVerne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Isisindc Publishing, LLC
Published: 2014-02-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Zek didn’t give her any time to over think anything. From the moment they’d entered the bathroom and he’d turned on the shower, he’d sensed a cooling in her. He’d been afraid of that. He’d moved too quickly, told her too much. He kept forgetting—human, but in truth, he knew no other way than to be truthful with her. When he caught her ogling him in the mirror, he smiled at her seeing him as the gods had created him. “Your turn,” he said, then turned, opened the shower door again and stepped in. He placed his head under the river of warm water and closed his eyes as the cascade washed the sand off. But every part of him tuned in to the woman on the other side of the glass doors. He heard the rustle of her clothing falling to her feet onto the floor. His lungs stopped working as he waited for the sound of the door opening and then he felt her warm palm on his arm.

One touch and his heart pumped all of his blood straight to his cock.

Only then, did he open his eyes and lift his head to look into the depths of Des. The heat from the shower soon caused the glass to fog. The warmth sizzling back and forth between them had his hunger for her reaching starvation status. Without breaking eye contact from his bride, he took the soap from the small shelf, ran it over her shoulders and down her arms.

She stood perfectly still, just watching him, though her chest rose and fell in concert with his. When his hands glided to her plush breasts and he rubbed the soap around one areola and then the other, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes.

He took that as an invitation and leaned forward, capturing her chin then her mouth with his. But he pulled back, unsure where the strength came from to do that. He’d promised to get the sand out of her hair and he would, first. They had many, many days and nights for everything else he planned on doing to her for as long as they both lived. He stepped back but kept one hand on her waist.

She raised her head so the water would beat down on her face.

He immediately replaced the body soap. “Turn around,” he prompted, “take a couple of steps out of the flow of water and let me wash your hair.”

She did and he reached for one of the bottles on the shelf in the corner pouring the liquid into his hand, then lathering her hair. Running his fingers through her strands and massaging her scalp. He felt sand at her nape and made sure he rinsed it out, but when she seemed to relax into his touch and groaned—he took a little longer.

“Do you have any conditioner?” she asked.

“Yes. I’ll use some of that, too.”

“Please. And while that’s in my hair, I’ll take care of yours then rinse the conditioner from mine.

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