The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

"Lukas."

Sloane’s voice had dropped to something lower. Something that made the steam in the bathroom feel thicker.

"Yeah?"

"You have a problem."

I followed her gaze downward. Right. That. My body had been making its opinions about this situation extremely clear for the past several minutes, and there was really no hiding it when you were standing naked in a shower with a beautiful woman who had just spent five minutes rubbing soap over every inch of your skin.

"That’s not a problem. That’s a natural physiological response to—"

"It’s poking me in the stomach."

She wasn’t wrong. The height difference between us meant that certain parts of my anatomy lined up with certain parts of hers in ways that were impossible to ignore. Her stomach was flat and toned from years of training, and I could feel the warmth of her skin against me even through the spray of the shower.

"Again. Natural physiological response."

Sloane looked up at me with those blue eyes that could level buildings when she wanted them to. Water ran down her face in little rivulets, catching on her lashes and the curve of her cheekbones. Her pink hair was plastered to her skull and her shoulders and it should have looked ridiculous but instead she looked like something out of those expensive shampoo commercials that promised impossible results.

She looked like sex personified standing in front of me with steam curling around her body and water making her skin gleam under the bathroom lights.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

Her hand moved between us. Fingers wrapping around me with a grip that was confident and possessive and sent a jolt of electricity straight up my spine. She started stroking slowly, her palm sliding along my length with the help of the water and the lingering soap suds, and her eyes never left mine.

"Sloane."

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I’m doing?" She tilted her head to one side, water streaming past her ear. The movement was almost innocent except for the part where her hand was currently wrapped around my dick and moving in slow deliberate strokes that were making it very hard to think about anything else. "I’m handling the situation."

"You’re torturing me."

"Maybe." Her thumb swept across the tip and I had to brace one hand against the shower wall to keep my knees from buckling. "Or maybe I’m just curious what you’re going to do about it."

What was I going to do about it?

That was a stupid question. That was the stupidest question anyone had ever asked in the history of questions. What I was going to do about it was exactly what my body had been screaming at me to do for the past fifteen minutes while my girlfriend washed every inch of my skin with possessive intent.

I kissed her.

Not gentle. Not sweet. The kind of kiss that left no room for interpretation about what was coming next. My hands found her waist and pulled her flush against me and she made a sound into my mouth that was half surprise and half victory, like this was exactly what she’d been aiming for since the moment she dragged me into this bathroom.

Her hand released me only to wrap around my neck instead, pulling herself closer, and I could feel every inch of her body pressed against mine. The soft curves of her breasts against my chest. The flat plane of her stomach. The heat between her thighs that had nothing to do with the shower temperature.

"Lukas—"

I didn’t let her finish. I reached down and grabbed her thighs and lifted. She was lighter than she looked, all that muscle compact and dense on her small frame, and she responded instantly by wrapping her legs around my waist like she’d been waiting for this exact moment.

The position lined us up in ways that made my brain short-circuit temporarily.

I pressed her back against the shower wall and she gasped at the cold tile against her spine, her fingers digging into my shoulders. The contrast between the hot water and the cool wall made her arch against me, pressing closer, seeking warmth.

"Cold," she complained.

"Give it a second."

I kissed down her neck while she adjusted to the temperature, tasting water and soap and the salt of her skin underneath. She tilted her head to give me better access and her legs tightened around my waist, pulling me closer until I could feel the heat of her core pressed against me.

"Lukas. Stop teasing."

"Who’s teasing?"

"You are. Obviously. You’re—" She broke off with a moan as I bit down gently on the curve where her neck met her shoulder. "That’s. That’s cheating."

"Is it?"

"Yes. Definitely. There should be rules against—ah!"

I shifted my hips and pressed forward just enough that the tip of me brushed against her entrance. Not pushing in. Just there. A promise of what was coming. Her whole body shuddered and her nails raked down my back hard enough that I’d probably have marks tomorrow.

"Rules against what?"

"I hate you so much right now."

"No you don’t."

"No I don’t." Her voice had gone breathy and desperate in a way that made me want to hear more of it. "Please. Lukas. Please."

Sloane Fitzgerald saying please. That was worth more than any System reward.

I pushed forward.

The sound she made was somewhere between a moan and a whimper, high and needy as I slid inside her inch by inch. Her body was hot and tight around me and I had to stop halfway through just to catch my breath because the sensation was overwhelming in the best possible way.

"Oh god." Her head fell back against the tile. "Oh god oh god oh—"

I bottomed out and held still, giving us both a moment to adjust. Her walls clenched around me in rhythmic pulses and her breathing came in short sharp gasps that fogged the air between us.

"You okay?"

"Don’t ask stupid questions. Move. Move now."