I push at his chest, and squirm a bit expecting him to put me down, but instead he brings me right into the bathroom, sets me on the floor and starts the shower. “We need to get you warmed up. Don’t take this the wrong way, babe, but you look like hell.”
A glance in the mirror leaves me speechless. I don’t know if I’d say hell, but it’s not my finest moment. “Yeah well,” My teeth clack together as a shiver runs through me. “You aren’t exactly a catch either. Unless it’s the catch of the day.”
He laughs and bends down, unzipping my hoodie. “I can’t gawk at you in the shower if you’re wearing all these things.”
And here I thought I’d be glad if I never saw that smirk again. It actually makes me smile.
“Hey.” I protest, but weakly, my teeth still chattering. I’m pretty sure I can undress myself just fine, but it feels nice when he does it. We aren’t arguing yet, and I want to enjoy the feeling for as long as I can.
He drops my hoodie on the floor with a wet plop, then pulls me gently to my feet. I shiver in front of him, only my bra covering my top half. His gaze darkens as he takes in my breasts, but he’s all business as he hooks his fingers into my sweatpants and yanks them off along with my panties. Blood rushes to my face and my flush battles the residual cold from the wind and rain.
“Turn around,” he orders.
I clutch my arms in front of me and obey mechanically, until he stops me with his hands on my upper arms. He unlatches my bra and slips it off. I half expect him to grope me as he does, but he’s a perfect gentleman. “Alright, in you go.” The gentleman act goes right out the window when he lands a sharp smack on my ass to get me moving.
I forget to be annoyed when the hot water streams over me. God, that’s good. Two days ago I’d have said better than sex, but now I’m not so sure. I tilt my face up at the showerhead, the warm water streaming over my skin a welcome change from the stinging rain outside. For several long moments, I forget about anything else.
Chapter 30: Angie
I snap out of it when I hear the shower door open and close behind me. I sense him just before I catch him out of the corner of my eye.
He’s naked, and I’m not sure how to feel about that. Nothing has changed, including the way I react to him. Except now that I know how he can make me feel, the heat of the shower is nothing compared to the heat that’s pooling between my legs. Even so, the last time we were in the room together he pretty much called me a gold digging slut. My whole body tenses at the memory.
“My clothes were soaked too,” is all I get in explanation. He’s got a washcloth, which he reaches past me to get wet before he douses it in shower soap. “Stand still.” So close behind me that we’re almost touching, he begins to scrub my back and shoulders.
I feel weak for letting him do this before we’ve resolved anything, but my muscles slowly relax and I don’t say a word. Is it his way of apologizing? It’s not nearly enough, but damn if it isn’t half convincing me. I’ve had far, far worse apologies.
The cloth slips lower, until he’s running it over my hips and my ass. Down the outsides of my thighs and over my calves. He even gets my feet, making me giggle when it tickles, before he slides back up along the insides of my legs. Definitely weak, but I can’t find it in me to care.
When he starts to wash the insides of my thighs, I spread my legs a little without thinking about it. He soaps almost all the way up, but not quite, then stands. “Turn around, babe.”
I swallow. Am I ready for this? We have so much we need to talk about, but would it hurt to just let this happen? One more perfect moment to remember from a trip of confusion and heartache. I should say no, but I turn to face him.
As soon as Gavin comes into view, my eyes eat him up. He’s standing straight, his muscular, decorated body wet and flushed from the steam in the shower. I can’t hide my desire quickly enough, and the corner of his mouth turns up. It’s not the only thing that’s up. His cock is pointing at the ceiling, swaying slightly with his movements. A shiver runs through me when I remember the magic of feeling it inside me. It had to be magic for something that big to fit, right?
“I’m sure you’re still pissed as all hell at me,” he says quietly.
I shake my head. Not in denial, but I don’t want to think about that. Not right now.
He begins to scrub, first my left arm. “I can’t help myself. You drive me crazy, babe.” The rough cloth leaves a soft tingle in its wake as he moves from one arm to the next.
“I’m not your babe,” I whisper.