Free The Truth by Karin Tabke Page B

hating herself because of it. She shouldn’t have to feel like she had to walk on eggshells around him. They’d come too far for that. “More than that.”
    “More how?”
    “Your tone, your …” She felt foolish. “Your level of concern, not for your niece but for
Mandy
.” There, she said it.
    “Amanda is my dead brother’s widow. I have a responsibility there. There’s nothing more to it than that.”
    Nodding, Katy reached for the soap and began to lather herself. “Will you tell me what happened to him?” she softly asked.
    When she reached to put the soap back on the holder, he took it and lathered himself up, his movements quick and jerky. He was irritated. “No.”
    That hurt. He rinsed off and as he did, he pulled her beneath the spray and held her as the suds ran from them both down the drain. “Don’t take it personally, Cinderella. I don’t talk about it with anyone, not even Amanda.”
    Wow, didn’t she feel special?
    Not.
    Apparently her status was just like anyone else’s.
    Blinking back the sting of tears, she stepped dripping wet from the shower, grabbed a towel, and exited the bathroom. God, she did not want to feel this vulnerable when it came to him.
    A few minutes later Simon came out with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp and his skin glistening. Eyeing him in the large oval mirror over the dressing table where she sat, she tried to gauge his mood.
    For a long contemplative moment, he stood behind her, his gaze locked with hers. Finally, he leaned down and whispered, “Since you won’t let me ravage you, let’s go into town for some dinner.” He kissed her dewy shoulder. “I’m hungry.” Their eyes continued to hold in the mirror. Warmth swept through her as his fingers caressed her arms, and his lips pressed to the curve of her neck, his smoldering green eyes never wavering from hers in the mirror.
    “I kind of like you jealous,” he softly said.
    “I hate the way it makes me feel.”
    “Then let it go, princess.”
    She closed her eyes. He brushed his thumbs across her nipples. They responded instantly.
    His lips pressed fervently to her skin, and his fingertips increased their pressure. A slow moan escaped her throat. When he bit her, her eyes popped open and she caught her breath. The predatory intensity of his eyes as he stared at her in the mirror thrilled her.
    Tugging the towel, he pulled it from her, exposing her rosy skin. Watching herself in the mirror as Simon’s big hands caressed her breasts—stroking her nipples to stiff peaks, his simmering gaze challenging her to stop him—turned her on so much, desirous tremors racked through her.
    “Touch yourself,” he commanded softly.

 
     
     
     
    is command conjured all sorts of shocking scenarios. She hesitated. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t walked the wild side with Simon. But sexting, phone play, even their little tryst outside the Redwood Room didn’t have the face-to-face intimacy this could have. He wanted her to touch herself while he watched. It thrilled her, yes, and it petrified her inhibited self. What if she did it wrong? What if he didn’t like it? What if she looked stupid?
    But what if she did it right and he totally got off on it? Her blood warmed to the possibilities, and her nipples tightened as she imagined him hot and bothered behind her, wanting her but her refusing to allow him to touch her while she came. And it would serve him right, because her feelings still stung from his phone call with Mandy.
    “How?” she breathlessly asked.
    Simon stood, reached across her, and tilted the large oval mirror toward her, then—with her still on the little stool—he pulled her away from the dressing table, so that she was completely visible in the mirror.
    “I’ll show you,” he promised as he pulled a chair up behind her stool and sat down. Pulling her snugly between his thighs, he caught her stare and smiled, anticipating the show in his front-row seat.
    The air sizzled