Sinful Rewards 10 by Cynthia Sax Page A

you.”
    â€œ Only when you’re with me.” He draws me closer to him, flattening my bare breasts against his chest, his skin warm, his muscles firm. “You chose me.” My eyelashes flutter as I delight in his proximity, his hardness prodding my stomach, his feet bracketing mine. “I’m the only person who makes you lose control.”
    â€œYou are.” The scent of engine grease and leather fades, leaving only his natural fragrance, a musk I drag into my nostrils with every breath. I splay my fingers over his pecs, his heart beating under my palm.
    â€œI’ll wash you first and then we can play.” Hawke pours apple-scented shampoo into one of his hands and massages my scalp, his fingertips moving in soothing circles. I stand still, allowing him to care for me, treasuring this pampering.
    â€œYour hair reminds me of the dirt path between the apple orchard and Rock’s land.” Hawke carefully wipes away the trickle of lather sliding down my forehead.
    â€œI see.” I twist my lips. My hair reminds him of dirt.
    â€œYou don’t see.” Laughter lightens his voice. “I’d race down that long, unbending path every morning.” He threads his fingers through my hair, straightening the twisted tendrils. “I was eager to see my best friend, to spend the day climbing trees and jumping into creeks and doing what boys do.”
    I hear the happiness in his words, feel his delight in these memories, and my chest warms. His days at his family’s orchard seem like a magical time for me, a girl who grew up in the suburbs.
    â€œAnd then when the day was done, I’d hike home,” Hawke continues, tilting me into the stream of warm water, rinsing the shampoo from my hair. “The setting sun would pick up the reds and browns in the dirt, and I knew at the end of that path, my mom and dad were waiting for me.”
    He knew he had a home, that they would always be there, loving him, wishing for him to return. I stare at the shower tiles, fighting to control my emotions.
    â€œThat’s what I feel when I look at you.” He brushes the stray strands away from my face. “That joy.”
    He’s my home also, my warm, safe place to return to at the end of the day, a man I could possibly love . . . in the future, not now.
    I lean into Hawke, unable to form any words, knowing I don’t have to. He understands me. He always does.
    Hawke transfers some lemon-scented body wash onto a giant bath sponge and gently washes my forehead, nose, cheeks, the bubbles tickling my nostrils.
    â€œYou don’t have apple-scented body wash?” I lift my chin, giving him access to more of me. “What would your parents say?”
    â€œThey’d want me to make you happy.” He follows the lines of my neck, sweeps over my shoulders, my arms. The sponge blackens, this is how filthy I am, and he rinses it, adds more suds. “I bought this body wash for you.”
    I smile as he scrubs my fingers, lingering over every knuckle, every cuticle. He noticed my scent. “I smell like lemons due to my cleaning supplies.”
    â€œIt’s sexy as hell.” Hawke places my now-clean hands on his rigid cock. “I take one whiff and I’m hard.”
    â€œI like that I make you hard.” I stroke him as he washes my breasts, jostling the dog tags, teasing my nipples with his calloused thumbs, decimating my worries with waves of pleasure, leaving want and need in his wake. That naughty sponge lowers, skimming over my stomach, my mons, and I spread my legs, needing his touch on my pussy.
    The damn man skips this sensitive skin, his hands dancing over my thighs. I growl my unhappiness, tightening my grip on his shaft, and he chuckles.
    â€œYou’re a bad man.” I swat his chest with my right hand.
    â€œI’m the worst.” My unrepentant bad boy kneels before me, removing his cock from my grasp, and I grit my teeth, frustrated