Free From the Shadows (A Shadow Chronicles Novel) by Christina Moore Page A

was coiling in my belly. Race seemed to know it too, for he grinned and kissed me deeply.
    “Come for me ,” he said again.
    “I have a better idea,” I rasped breathlessly. “How about we come together?”
    Race grinned again, crushing my mouth with his as this time, we both took the plunge.
     
    ***
     
    When Race and I both were spent, our foreheads touching as we fought to catch our breath, he disengaged us and gently set me down. I found that my legs were about as strong as a couple of gummy worms, and it was with careful steps that I maneuvered around him to finish my shower. He picked up the soap and washcloth as I reached for them, saying “Let me do that for you.”
    I nodded and he reached around me, holding the washcloth under the cooling spray and then rubbing it vigorously against the bar of soap to lather it up. He started with my neck and moved slowly downward, pausing when he reached my breasts to hold one in each hand. Just when I though he was about to do more than wash them, he moved along, taking the cloth to my arms, then my back, and then back around to my navel. Still rather sensitive from our lovemaking, when he reached between my legs and touched the soapy cloth to my sex I could not help but moan. His soft, almost sensual touch was sending little aftershocks of pleasure rippling through me. Race chuckled softly as I tilted my hips against his hand, then he laid a kiss on my shoulder and moved to my legs. The attention he paid to my skin as he washed me was as thorough as it was gentle and he didn’t miss a spot—not even the spaces between my toes.
    As he stood from taking care of my feet, I snatched the washcloth from his grasp. Race looked at me, a smirk of challenge on his face. I grinned, turning my back to him briefly to wet and re-lather the washcloth. I took my time with his torture as he had with mine, availing myself of the opportunity to study my old childhood crush in all his naked glory. Men weren’t particularly fond of being described as beautiful, but that’s what he was to me—a beautiful, exquisite example of masculinity. His sinewy musculature, upon closer inspection, was ideally suited for speed in much the same way as that of shifters in the feline Family. I wondered briefly if his build had something to do with his ability to become any animal he wished. I’d have to ask him about it. Right now, of course, I was more interested in teasing him, and as I knelt to wash his legs I impulsively planted a kiss on the left cheek of his perfect ass, and he looked over his shoulder at me and grinned. Having saved the best for last, when I stood I turned him to face me once more, then took his member in my hands and gave it its due…slowly. I knew my grin was wicked as he closed his eyes and groaned, and he braced his arm against the wall to keep steady.
    “You’re a devious little minx,” he said when I finally let him off the hook.
    “No, I’m a devious little dog,” I replied, and Race laughed again.
    After rinsing ourselves thoroughly, we both got out and toweled off. I put on the sweats I had pilfered from his closet as he retrieved his razor from the medicine cabinet , standing at the sink with his towel around his waist. I went out to the bed to remake it. All he had on it was a fitted sheet and a matching flat sheet, a common bed dressing amongst shifters, and though we hadn’t slept beneath the flat we’d still rumpled it pretty good. I had straightened the flat sheet and was fluffing the pillows when Race stuck his head out the bathroom door to see what I was doing.
    “Jules, you didn’t have to do that,” he told me.
    I turned to find him already half done with his task, the right side of his face still covered with white foam. “Race, if you remember my mother at all, you know she raised Mark and me to tidy our beds before we set about our business for the day—surely my brother complained about it more than once. The duty’s no different just because