With a sleepy groan, he rolled onto his back, his entire torso exposed, his erection evident.

“Gettin’ an eyeful?” he asked in a voice rough with slumber.

“You’re awake?” she said, and couldn’t help the heat that washed up the back of her neck.

His smile slowly stretched from one side of his beard-darkened jaw to the other. “Like what you see?”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He rolled off the bed and, as stark naked as she, wrapped his arms around her and pressed his mouth to hers.

“Oh, for the love of—”

Still kissing her, he walked her backward into the small bathroom, reached into the shower, and before it warmed, pushed her through the tiny opening and under the bracing spray. She squealed, with him laughing, and as the water temperature heated, so did she, her blood pounding as his hand moved across her slick skin. Using a bar of soap, he washed her, kissed her, and pinned her against the tiles where he lifted her onto his thick erection, sliding her easily onto him as the water cascaded over them.

She blinked against the spray and gasped at the depth of his penetration, the breath squeezed from her lungs, her breasts flattened and soapy.

“Oh . . . oh . . . oh, God, Slade,” she cried as the first wave of orgasm crashed over her. Convulsing, sputtering, feeling spasm after spasm of release, she clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck, legs surrounding his hips as he thrust upward, his breathing as rapid as her own, her back sliding against the wet tile. Melting inside, she dug her fingers into his shoulders.

Again he plunged deep into her.

And again.

And again.

Until she closed her eyes and let out a deep-throated sound she didn’t recognize as her own voice.

“Oh, God,” he ground out, then shuddered a release, his head thrown back, the cords of his neck distended as he came inside her, stiffening, every muscle in his body contracting.

For several seconds the water washed over them, and slowly their breathing slowed. She was eye level with him, staring deep into his smokey gaze, watching drops drizzle from his hair and off the tip of his nose.

“You’re incredible,” he said, and she laughed.

“Uh, you did all the work.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

“I told you that aw-shucks, country-boy charm doesn’t work with me.”

He laughed then, still holding her, still inside her. “No? God, I’d love to see what happens when something does work. I might just have a heart attack!”