Warriors of Poseidon 05 - Atlantis Redeemed

nodded, too tired to argue about it. He’d seen her naked in the woods, after all. A warm flush climbed up her neck and face at the memory. He’d done far more than see her.
    “If you’d just turn around,” she finally said. “Until I get in there. I’d appreciate it.”
    He turned immediately, but something in the tense way he held his shoulders told her plainer than any words could how very difficult all this was for him. She’d felt the sheer, primal force of his fierce arousal, both in the forest, earlier, and on the bed just moments before. But he’d held back, both times.
    He’d held back. She hadn’t. She’d been sort of a shameless hussy.
    She grinned at the outdated phrase and the notion of it fitting her, of all people, as she made quick work of stripping out of her clothes and quickly stepping into the shower. She resisted the automatic moan of pure, hedonistic delight when the wonderfully powerful spray hit her body from all directions.
    Atlantis Redeemed – Warriors of Poseidon 05
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    All directions. Her eyes widened when she turned a little to lift her hair off of her neck and one stream of water happened to strike very sensitive flesh. Oh, boy, this shower could be a lonely single girl’s best friend. Her gaze immediately went to Brennan, because it wasn’t a pulsating shower jet she wanted between her legs.
    It was him. All of him. Every hard, hot inch that she’d felt between her thighs when he’d captured her on that giant, soft, made-for-wild-passionate-nights bed. A hot blush rose from her breasts and swept up her neck and face to her hairline, and she silently offered a thank-you that he wasn’t watching her right then.
    But when he turned around to see her because of the curse, and caught her staring at him like a lust-struck idiot . . . She hurriedly reached for the intriguing glass bottles on the shelf. Shampoo and soap. That’s what she needed.
    That’s all she needed.
    Brennan tried his best, he really did; he’d be prepared to argue before the highest Atlantean court his case that he’d given it his best efforts to keep from looking at her as long as he could.
    However, when the sound of bath oils being uncorked came to his ears, at the same time that the edges of his grasp of Tiernan’s reality grew hazy in his mind, he was forced to turn around and catch a single glimpse of her.
    It was almost a hardship, really. His conscience scoffed.
    His breath dried in his mouth and all of the air in the room vanished, replaced with longing, need, and desire. She was turned slightly away from him, so that she didn’t see him watching her, and as he stood, entranced, she raised her arms to wash her lovely dark hair. He inhaled sharply as the iridescent mass of bubbles formed and then sluiced away in the multiple streams of the shower, leaving her hair and body glistening, covered with drops of water.
    He’d never been jealous of drops of water before.
    He wanted to lick each one of them off her body, one at a time.
    His body was shaking with need, and his cock strained against his pants so hard it hurt him. He was aroused beyond anything he’d ever known, just from the sight of the curve of her back and hip, down to her firm, round ass. He caught a glimpse of the silken shadow between her legs as she turned, and he was suddenly urgently, fiercely sure that he’d never wanted anything in his life as much as he wanted to go to her, stripping his own clothes off as he went, and plunge his cock into her so deeply that she’d cry out his name.
    Instead, he turned around. Turned away.
    All heroic sacrifices did not involve weapons and battle and death. Some were about a beautiful human woman standing in a shower.
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    Several minutes later, during which he’d taken only two quick glances when he felt the curse snaking around the edges of his mind, she finally called his name.
    “Brennan? I’m done and wrapped up in these wonderful towels. I don’t know how to turn off the shower, or if you wanted to—”
    “Oh, by the gods, how I want to,” he growled, then he turned and pounced on her, yanked her off her feet, and kissed her, fast, furious, almost bruising. “But I won’t.” He released her and, tearing at his clothes, stepped into the shower, throwing shirt and pants and boots against the far wall with, at least in the case of the boots, satisfying thunks.
    She sighed loudly, and he heard it