His heart beat so hard he could feel each pulse of blood flooding through the painful stiffness of his manhood. Every beat of his heart sent another wave of pressure, an insistent reminder of the pleasure he’d found in the taste of Ana’s sinful mouth. What were you thinking? Hadn’t he told Nu, in no uncertain terms, that he would not resort to sexual manipulation? That he would not tread the line between a gentler persuasion and rape? He pressed a fist to his forehead as the sounds of the shower threw up images of Ana’s naked body, her skin glistening with water as if she’d just rose from the sea. He could still see the water dripping from the hardened buds of her nipples, begging him to lower his head and drink from the rosy peaks. His erection grew more painful in the strict confines of his jeans and he clenched his hands into fists. Get a grip, Brec. Kissing her had been a result of his weakness. She’d poked him, mocked him. Flashing her body at him like that—taunting him by insinuating that the startled look on his face was the result of some naiveté about the fairer sex.
