Page 59 of Yearning For Her
As hot water cascaded down her body, Willow closed her eyes and cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples and gently rolling them. She imagined Kian’s hands were caressing her; large, confident, tipped with claws. She pinched harder. The sensation zipped right to her clit. Her nipples hardened between her fingers.
Releasing one breast, she smoothed her hand down her belly toward her pussy. As her fingers slipped between her folds to softly circle her clit, she thought of that night in the hotel with Kian, thought of the way his tongue had delved into her depths, how it had licked and stroked her. She thought of his hands grasping her firmly, holding her still as he ravaged her with his mouth, tongue, and teeth, all while he stared up at her with scorching hunger.
Yet this was no memory. In her imagination, she saw his inhuman, glowing blue eyes. There weren’t pointed fingernails digging into her flesh but black claws. Horns rose from his head, begging for her to grab hold of them, and those glorious, diaphanous wings spread from his back.
Her heart pounded erratically, and her core ached to be filled. She quivered with want; she wanted him there with her, touching her, kissing her, fucking her.
Willow increased the pressure and speed of her finger. Her hips undulated, and she panted, squeezing her breast as the pleasure sharpened. She released it an instant later, thrusting out her hand to brace her palm against the shower wall. Tingles broke out over her skin as her thighs trembled.
“Kian,” she whispered.
Pleasure burst through her in an electric shock. It stole her breath and made her body strain, each wave more powerful than the last. Willow cried out and clamped her thighs together around her hand, but she didn’t stop strumming her clit, even when it became too much. She wanted this.
She wanted him.
Finally, when she could take no more, she relented, pressing firmly on her throbbing clit. She rested her head against the wall as she caught her breath, her body weak and heavy. Her sex clenched.
As good as the release had felt…it couldn’t compare to what she truly craved.
Kian.
Willow groaned, withdrew her hand from between her thighs, and washed herself.
She hadn’t lied to him that night at the overlook. What she felt for him, even after such a short time, was powerful. It was difficult to maintain distance with Kian when everything about him felt so right. She could so easily fall in love with him.
No. Can’t let that happen, Willow.
God, the pain she’d suffer if he ever betrayed her…
Nope. Don’t think about it.
Exiting the shower, she swiftly dried off. Her flushed skin prickled in the cool air. She wrung her hair out with the towel to shed as much of the excess water as she could.
Willow pulled on her underwear, a pair of gray pajama shorts, and a loose, long-sleeved top. A pair of cozy fluffy socks added the final touch of comfort to her loungewear. Grabbing the blow dryer off the hanger on the wall, she dried her hair.
Once she was done, she turned off the light and padded to the kitchen. She was ready to wind down, which meant snuggling on the couch with her favorite blanket, a movie, and a glass of wine.
She’d just poured the wine when the doorbell rang.
Willow frowned, set the wine bottle down, and glanced at the clock. It was almost eight. No one usually visited her at this time of night, and she wasn’t expecting any packages. Kimani and Darren might have forgotten something, though Willow was sure they would’ve texted her if that was the case.
She walked to the door and peeked through its window. The frosted glass only granted her a distorted view of someone standing on her porch. “Who is it?”
“Delivery from In Bloom Floral for a Miss Crowley,” a man replied.
Willow’s brow furrowed, and she glanced at her cats, who had gathered nearby. “Huh?”
They just blinked at her.
She unlocked the deadbolt and cracked the door open far enough for the chain to catch. A man wearing a green t-shirt with In Bloom Floral printed on it in flourishing script stood on her porch, holding two flower arrangements in vases.
Willow arched a brow. “Um, that’s me, but…”
“These are all are for you, then,” the man said.
All for me?
Unlocking the chain, Willow opened the door wider and peered past the man. Three other people stood behind him, each with their own armful of flowers—some in vases, some in baskets, all in varying colors and sizes.