I press my thumb into the smile line on his cheek. “You’re gorgeous. Beautiful. I can’t believe you.”
I back away until I’m pressed against the tiles, to get a better view, and now it’s his turn to look at every wet inch of me. My arms ache with the effort it takes to not cover myself. His perfect muscles make me look very squishy in comparison. His eyes darken as he looks at me from head to toe.
“Get over here,” he says faintly. I take his hand when he holds it out.
What a way to start the day. Showering with my colleague and nemesis.
As soon as the thought materializes, I know it’s so outdated I can’t keep lying to myself. He tugs me away from the freezing tile and faces me toward the spray, rechecking the temperature before he pushes me under. Then he puts his arms around me from behind and gives me what can only be described as a cuddle. I press back firmer against his arousal to feel him groan.
“How You Doing? Not weird? Freaking out?” He smoothes lather under my breasts, down my ribs. He
lifts my arm to inspect it, and we compare hand sizes.
“No, I’m fine. How come we don’t have to worry about you getting weird? Most girls have to worry
about guys making up an early-morning training session so they can escape. And in this case it’s not implausible.”
“I’ve been ready for this for a lot longer than you have,” he says. He seems to know I don’t want to get my hair wet, and turns us a little. His slippery hands coast along my hips.
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“A very long time.”
“I never guessed.”
“I’m very secretive.” He is gently amused.
I capture the soap, which is fast on its way to becoming a translucent sliver. I stick it to my palm, and it gives me a good excuse to stroke over his body, while his tongue licks at the water droplets on my jaw.
We look at each other, nose to nose, eyes half shut, and everything spirals out. The edges are nothing but cold air, but underneath this spray we get hotter and hotter, until I’m sure I’m nearly sweating. It’s this kiss.
The minutes and hours fade away when I’m kissing Josh Templeman. There’s no arc of the sun rising
into the sky, no emptying hot water tank, no checkout time. He takes his time with me. He’s a rare man; achieving the almost impossible. He kisses me into the present moment.
It’s something I’ve always had difficulty with in past relationships: turning off my brain. But here, it’s only us. Our lips find a rhythm; the gentle upswing of a pendulum, dropping away to the lightest curve, again and again, until there’s nothing left for me in this world but his body, mine, and the water spilling over us, destined to refill a cloud.
He makes words like intimacy seem inadequate. Maybe it’s the way he uses his thumb to tilt my face, the other fingers splayed behind my ear, into my hair. When I try to gasp a mouthful of air, he breathes it into me. My head rolls to the side, dreamy and heavy, and he cups my jaw. I look up at him, and a starburst of emotion expands inside me. I think he sees it in my eyes, because he smiles.
Nothing reminds me of how big his hands are like having them on my body. He cups my ribs in his palms, then slides up to show me how perfectly I fill his hands. When I can’t handle much more, he turns me to the wall and his fingers splay wings across my shoulder blades.
Nails scratch down smoothly and he’s whispering against my neck.
He’s telling me I’m beautiful. The most delicious strawberry shortcake. I’m the taste he’ll never get out of his mouth. And that he wants me to be sure, completely sure, before I make a decision about us.
He’s licking the water from my shoulders as he eases one broad palm in between my thighs. I feel my foot slide across the tiles an inch. Two. I shiver and he puts an arm across my collarbones.
At the first touch of his fingertip, I hear the sound I make echo around us. He begins to wind me tighter with each gentle circle he draws, and I reach behind me, capturing him in return. Our joint moan creates a cavernous buzz against the tiles.