Daddy Alpha I’m In Heat (Lily and Connor) novel Chapter 33

~Lily~

I practically sprinted into the bathroom, heart pounding like I was running from the freaking police, because all I could think about was how fast I needed to get under that shower, scrub every inch of myself, and get dressed before someone..God forbid anyone, walked in and figured out what we just did.

But then he followed me as he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, his eyes dragged over me, lingering way too long on the waterline where my knees were just barely above the surface.

“Pumpkin,” he said, like the nickname was a hand around my throat, “why don’t we have a bath together before we get to Spain?”

I actually choked on air. “Before we get to–Spain? Spain? We are docking in twenty minutes, Connor! Twenty! Do you understand how time works?

“That is not enough time for–for–oh my God, do not even look at me like that while I am talking, I cannot think when you look at me like that. My brain cells are falling out one by one.

“And stop smirking! I know what that smirk means, and the answer is no! No baths, no togetherness, no–oh my God I am going to die right here in this water, aren’t I?”

He pushed off the doorframe slowly, the way men in movies move right before they ruin someone’s life.

His hand slid along the marble counter as he crossed the room like he had all the time in the world, like the ship was not literally approaching Spain right this second, like my heart was not beating itself to death in my chest.

“You are talking a lot,” he said softly, stopping right at the edge of the tub, close enough that the steam curled around him too. “But you have not told me no yet, pumpkin.”

I splashed water at him because it was the only weapon I had left, and it hit his sweatpants in a sad little arc that barely even counted as a threat. “That was a no! That was me saying no in water language!”

He looked down at the wet fabric clinging to his thighs, then back up at me, his smirk curving even slower this time, like he was enjoying this on a spiritual level. “Five seconds,” he said, voice dropping even lower. “to scoot over. Or I get in anyway.”

I threw my hands in the air because my life is a disaster and apparently it is only getting worse.

“Oh my God, you are insane! You are actually insane! Do you know what is going to happen if you get in here? Chaos, Connor. Actual chaos.

He started pulling his sweatpants down, slow enough to make my entire soul try to escape my body through my ears, and I slapped my hands over my face because there was not enough holy water in the entire world to save me right now.

“Move, pumpkin,” he said, and the worst part, the absolute worst part, was that my stupid body was already sliding over to make room before my brain even decided whether or not this was a good idea.

I gripped the edge of the tub like it was a life raft in the middle of the ocean because there was no way, absolutely no way I was moving for this man. Not an inch. Not a single centimeter. I was holding my ground even if it killed me because someone in this room had to have self–control and clearly it was not going to be him.

“I am not moving, Connor,” I blurted out, my voice going high and wild because my heart was slamming so hard against my ribs I thought it might actually crack one. “Do you hear me? I am staying right here.

This is my side of the tub. You have the rest of the entire yacht, go use one of your fancy bathrooms with the gold faucets and the towels that probably cost more than my college tuition.

But this “I slapped the water dramatically, sending weak little splashes everywhere like a very angry mermaid, “-this is my sanctuary right now. So no. No baths together. No nakedness. No chaos. Absolutely not.”

He just stood there, silent, eyes fixed on me like a predator watching a particularly noisy rabbit dig its own grave. And then, like my words meant nothing at all, like my refusal was just background music to whatever evil plan was currently brewing in his head, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of boxers and shoved them down.

My brain broke in real time.

“Connor!” My voice shot up two octaves as I slapped my hands over my eyes so fast I almost gave myself a concussion. “You are naked! You are fully naked! What is wrong with you? Do you have no shame? There are laws, Connor! Rules! Basic human decency! You cannot just walk around dropping pants like you are allergic to clothing while l’am trying to have a mental breakdown in peace!”

He stepped closer. I could feel the movement in the air, the way the steam shifted, the way my wolf started howling inside me like she was watching her favorite show and eating popcorn.

“Lily,” he said slowly, and the way he said my name made my stomach flip like it had just jumped off the side of the yacht. “Are you looking?”

“No!” My hands were glued to my face, my fingers locked tight over my eyes like I was a child hiding from the boogeyman. “Absolutely not! I am a lady! Ladies do not look at naked men who just happen to be built like demigods carved out of sin and probably have tattoos in inappropriate places that no one needs to be thinking about right now!”

He chuckled as he shifted even closer to the tub.

“Because I think you are looking,” he murmured.

“In fact, I think you want to look, pumpkin.”

My face was on fire. My entire body was one giant flame of embarrassment and rage and way too many other feelings that I could not even begin to process right now because he was fully naked, fully confident, and clearly enjoying the fact that I was falling apart like a cheap umbrella in a hurricane.

“I do not want to look!” I yelled through my hands, my voice so shrill it could have killed birds mid–flight. “I am simply trying to survive this morning without adding indecent exposure to my of traumas, thank you very much!”

The water shifted again, a slow ripple against my legs, and my heart stopped dead in my chest because oh my God, he was getting in. He was actually getting in. list

He was in. He was right there in the same tub with me, and this was it, this was the moment my obituary was going to have to mention because no one comes back from this kind of humiliation alive.

And then his voice slid right down my spine.

“Let me scrub you, pumpkin.”

I whipped my head around so fast water actually flew into my own eyes. “Excuse me? Scrub me? You want to scrub me? Connor, this is not a car wash!

“This is not one of those spa commercials where women sit around with cucumbers on their eyes looking relaxed and serene! I am having a full–blown emotional crisis in this tub, my dignity is at the bottom of the ocean right now, and you want to give me a bath like I am five? No. Absolutely not. Denied. Rejected. Try again never.”

But of course, he ignored me completely because Connor does not listen when people tell him no. Oh no, Connor acts like no is just another word for please ruin my life, thank you.

Before I could stop him, before my brain even caught up, his hand was on my shoulder, big and warm and heavy, guiding me forward like he had every right to touch me whenever and however he wanted.

And then the other hand came with the soap. He started slow, so slow I actually forgot how to breathe for a second, dragging that stupid bar across my back until it slid under the water again, and then his palm followed, rubbing the soap into my skin like he was painting me, mapping me, memorizing me.

I made a sound. I swear I did not mean to, but it came out anyway, this awful, humiliating little whimper that betrayed me completely because his hands were big and the water was warm and my whole body was basically melting like butter in a pan.

“Relax,” he said. I wanted to scream. “I am just washing you.”

“Just washing me?”

“Connor, you cannot just climb into a tub with a girl half your age and start washing her like it is completely normal, because newsflash, it is not normal! This is the opposite of normal! There are probably laws about this somewhere, and now I am going to have to explain to a therapist why I cannot walk past a bathtub for the rest of my life without having heart palpitations!”

He didn’t even answer me. He just kept moving, slow, steady, sliding lower down my spine until the heat in my face was spreading all the way through my chest.

His hand was so sure, so firm, like he was in no rush at all, like he had every intention of taking his sweet time while I sat there shaking apart like wet paper in the rain.

And then his hand moved around my side, around my ribs, up, up, until I realized exactly where it was heading, and my whole body went stiff like I had been struck by lightning.

“Connor!” I yelped, twisting half around even though it was pointless because his hand was already there, on my breast, big and warm and soap–slick, pressing just enough to make my entire brain short–circuit like someone had poured water on a power line. “Oh my God! You are actually doing this! You are really–Connor! Oh my God, this is happening, I am dying, this is the day I die in a bathtub, this is it!”

His thumb brushed over my nipple and my lungs just quit working. My arms flailed like I was trying to grab the air itself for support because my body was not obeying me anymore, it was just sitting there melting into his hands like I was built for this, like I had been waiting for this, like my wolf had been praying for this moment since the dawn of time

“Connor, I swear I am going to faint,” I babbled, words spilling so fast I could not stop them. “This is a felony! A serious one! My ancestors are watching this happen right now, horrified, covering their eyes in the afterlife because their descendant has apparently turned into a cautionary tale about getting on yachts with older men who look like sinners in human skin. Oh my God, you are still touching me. You are actually pressing–Connor!”

His hand curved heavier over my breast, his thumb sliding slow again, his voice low against my ear like the devil himself had decided to speak directly to me.

“Hold still, pumpkin,” he murmured, teasing wrapped in every word. “I have not even started yet.”