Page 71 of Haunt the Mall

He massaged my ass, his gaze trailing the black smudges under my eyes. “I love when you come undone.”

Then, he loved me now. I sighed happily. He loved me. Or at least my version of messy.

He kissed me so hard and fast that I swayed, dizzy on potential. What kind of punishments did he have in mind? Would he smack my ass? Tie me up in silk? Make me sit on the bed and touch myself?

“Is it okay if I still call you ‘Miss’ Silver?” he purred.

“Yes. I haven’t agreed to taking your name yet.” I grinned.

Whether he loved my vibe or my actual self, I had a desperate urge to believe this was my twisted, tender, happily-ever-after.

Fuck my brain for engaging in this kind of fantasy when we’d barely started dating. But there was nothing I could do about it now. Love would have to be its own thrilling mystery.

I tugged his belt loops. “Take off your pants.”

It was a lot easier to say than anything else running through my head.

He gestured to my legs. “First, may I?”

I nodded. I’d rather not wobble or sit on the toilet to take off my socks in front of him.

He knelt and edged my socks off with careful inspection to each foot. Steam curled around the bathroom and swelled in my lungs. What was he looking at?

I wiggled my toes as if to show him they weren’t that special.

He squeezed my sole. “Just as I suspected. I like them.”

Oh my god. This kinky Prince Charming shit would do me in. I loved him.

His featherlight touch skimmed my arches, veering from tender to ticklish.

“Ah, take off your pants.” I laughed, kicking him back.

“As you wish, darling.” He edged his pants down with agonizingly slow pride and smirked, his lips still swollen from our kisses.

Damn it, he knew I was staring. He liked it. But did he know I was infatuated?

I ran under the shower, then half-closed the curtain so spray didn’t escape. My heart raced and heat spread through my limbs. There was no way I wasn’t blushing all over the place.

Watching his blurry silhouette strip as I soaped up only emphasized how alien this whole thing was to me. I never showered with my flings. They left right after doing the deed. Once in a while, I’d send them home with a sports drink, and they’d occasionally give me the same courtesy.

Bathing with someone at this age was intimate. He’d literally washed my feet. Those were the least-sexy body parts for most people. I didn’t even think it was his kink.

On impulse, I twisted the shower knob. Freezing water pummeled my back. I gasped and bit back a scream. Fuck, that was fast. My recklessness made my teeth chatter.

He quickly twisted the knob to the middle and rubbed my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes.” I sniffled, shielding him from the spray. “I accidentally hit the thing and…”

He nodded and held me close. His cold fingertips bit my arms, but his chest radiated against mine. There was some secret power in his touch, in his mind, and hell, even under his gaze. Then, it hit me:

He was naked. He was listening. And beautiful. And mine.

I curled my hand in the damp, downy chest hair over his heart. “Victor?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to watch a movie after this?” I asked.