Spectre by Walker Shiloh

Author:Walker, Shiloh
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: alpha heroes, assassin romance, interracial romance, opposites attract, kidnap romance, bad boy romance, angst
Publisher: Shiloh Walker, Inc.
Published: 2019-07-21T16:00:00+00:00

“YOU’RE NEVER STICKING your cock in my butt,” I told him after we washed a second time. “You’re too big.”

“You might not be able to take all of me, no. But the muscles stretch and if done right, there’s pleasure in it. But you’d have to want it, to trust me and be willing to learn. If not, it would only bring you pain.” A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, although his eyes had gone remote again on me. “If it causes you undue pain and little to no pleasure, it holds no appeal for me.”

He turned off the water and grabbed a towel from just outside the shower, wrapping it around me.

It was heated and I shivered at the small luxury, then all but melted as he began to rub me dry, even kneeling in front of me to stroke the towel over my lower legs.

Monster, my ass.

He wrapped the towel around me then stepped out, holding the door for me. I glanced over and saw the towel bar and the small light on the end, glowing red. There wasn’t a second towel. Heat still clung to the one around me and I went to offer it but he’d grabbed a folded one from a bamboo table a few feet away, drying off with a few cursory motions. There were about a hundred things I wanted to say to him, but I didn’t even know where to start.

“I...um...I’m going to get dressed,” I said, averting my face.

“Wait in here a minute.” He left and I breathed out a sigh, both grateful and resentful as he walked out. I needed to get my head on straight. I was also developing an insane fixation—Stockholm Syndrome, Logical Tia insisted—that demanded I be around him so I could figure him out.

He was back within a few minutes, carrying a large tote bag. He angled his head in a follow-me gesture and I padded out of the bathroom, clutching the towel at my breasts. He put the bag on the bed. It gave under the weight.

“What’s in there? A baby elephant?”

“I didn’t see one in your house so I didn’t think you needed one,” he responded in that cool, neutral voice that revealed so very little.

I didn’t need to puzzle out his words, either, because he had the bag unzipped and stepped aside so I could look.

“My stuff,” I said, looking inside to find the compartmentalized interior full of rigidly organized piles of my belongings—who could organize a tote bag like this? There were five pairs of shoes in one compartment, the plastic caddy that held my hair stuff in another, and the spare satin scarf I used when I washed my favorite one, along with the toiletry kit from my bathroom closet. The last two compartments held art supplies.

“Your suitcase for fall is over there.”

I looked up and saw the carry-on that depicted an autumn scene sitting by the door.

Before I could say anything, he turned and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

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