Snapping myself from my stupor, I sank the sponge into the bowl and made quick work of his arm and tattooed back. Reaching for the towel, I dried him off, then said, “Can I clean your front?”
Zaal didn’t move from where he sat, prompting me to shift to place myself in front of him. His chains were in the way, but at least he could move his arms, baring his packed torso. Eyes widening, I drank in every sculpted inch as he allowed me to clean his broad chest.
The bold 221 tattoo glared at me; his black hair was clumped and fell in knotted disarray. Offering the sponge for him to see, I shuffled on my knees until I was positioned between his legs, cradled in close proximity to his imposing frame.
For a moment I entertained the certainty that this close, if he wanted to, Zaal could easily kill me. If he was truly the untamed savage, the crazed monster he’d been acting for the two weeks here at the house, he should kill me now.
But when I found myself mere inches from his face, my eyes met those stunning jade irises, and any fear I had fell away like butter sliding off a hot knife.
Electricity seemed to crackle between us as we breathed the same air. Zaal stared and stared, until, raising the sponge, I pressed its wet warmth to his chest. This close, with my ear hovering just below his mouth I caught his sharp inhale of breath.
My thighs clenched at the desperate sound and warmth spread between my legs. I could feel myself blushing, and my hands trembled.
Overcome with a heady attraction, I focused on the task of cleaning the traces of blood and dirt from his skin. My hands ran over his muscled chest, over his bulging traps that sat perfectly on top of large round shoulders.
My breath came in short quick pants as my hand slowly traced down his washboard abs, showcasing more muscles than I knew it was possible to produce. Eventually, I found my sponge at the waistband of his sweatpants.
I paused. He needed cleaning desperately, but I wavered. I knew he was naked beneath his pants. I must have hesitated too long; Zaal suddenly moved, his chains clattering off the hard floor. I jumped back at the sudden movement and my frightened eyes darted to meet his. Once again, Zaal was watching me carefully. His long rough fingers slipped under the elastic of the waistband, then slowly pushed the pants off his waist and over his thick thighs. The pants stopped as the chains from his ankle shackles prevented him from freeing himself completely.
Our fixed attentions hadn’t dropped as he removed his pants. I was transfixed by his expression, the parting of his lips and the slight color that had graced his defined tanned cheeks.
My heart drummed. He was naked. I hadn’t expected him to remove his pants. I wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed.Finally, inhaling a shuddering breath, I reached out and dipped the sponge in the bowl. Lifting my hand, I drained out the water with a squeeze of my fist, and feeling breathless at what I might find, I risked a look down.
My hand froze, suspended in the air as I met the sight of his tapered waist, his muscles forming a sharp and overly defined V that led to a dark cropping of hair and …
I sucked in a breath as my gaze landed on his cock, his long, wide, and very hard cock. And the more I stared, the more it hardened, standing flush to his lower torso.
Hands shaking, I looked up to see his eyes blazing. His face wore a furious expression. It should have frightened me, but as his hips lifted, it was obvious why he looked so severe—he wanted my hands to intimately touch him.
Inching forward, I ran the sponge over his calves and his strong thighs. I cleaned both front and back, feeling relieved when they were relatively clean and needed no more attention. My hand ran farther north, only to be met with what unnerved me.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
What are you doing? I was all over him, having blatantly used the excuse of washing him down to touch him.
Suddenly I felt sick, and wrong. Really fucking wrong.
Deciding to leave, no, needing to leave, I went to withdraw my hand, when firm fingers gripped my wrist. My eyes snapped open.
No words came from Zaal’s mouth. His grip was anything but hurtful. But I could see he had no intention of letting me go. And as fucked up as it made me, I didn’t want him to let go of me.
My eyes lowered to his hand on mine and then rose to his face. His jaw was clenched. He wore a pained look. I opened my mouth to speak. A whoosh of air slipped through my lips, my words resisted their formation, when suddenly Zaal pulled me in closer. Gasping at the sudden movement, my knees shuffled on the rubber flooring. Never breaking Zaal’s stare, he slowly lowered my hand and the wet sponge to the base of his long cock.
Zaal’s hand paused as the sponge connected with his hard length and I grew wet between my thighs. Every part of my skin seemed on fire as I felt him beneath the sponge. Felt his cock, hot, long, hard, and desperate.