Whisper to Me(27)

“Dakota had to leave for work,” I said from outside the bathroom door. “She said you should bring some shower stuff home from your mom’s shop today.”

I heard her muffled voice. “Yeah, I could do that.”

“I’ll let you borrow my old-fashioned bar of soap, though. It’s coming your way. Sound good?”

She giggled as she pulled open the door, and then her mouth drew into a straight line when her gaze clashed with mine. She had on a fuzzy pink bathrobe and my eyes darted to the area above her breasts, where the terrycloth parted, and then down to the tightly drawn sash. Was she naked beneath that wrap? I couldn’t help imagining what she’d do if I suddenly leaned forward and untied that knot.

“Thanks,” she said. I saw her swallow roughly at my inspection. “I’ll also bring home a thing or two for your bathroom.”

“Will it smell like you?” The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them.

Her nostrils flared briefly as her eyes zoned in on my lips and then flitted away. “Wou . . . would that be a good thing?”

“You always smell good, Turtle.” I turned and headed back down the hallway before I confessed something even more damaging. “Be right back.”

Rachel’s hair had been up in a messy bun, and I wondered what kind of shampoo she used, because her hair had smelled amazing the other night. I needed to rein in my thoughts before Rachel realized that I was focusing way too much on our one-time encounter.

I grabbed the Ivory soap from my shower, all the while cursing myself for not acting more normal around her. When I returned to her bathroom, the door had been left open and Rachel was leaning over the sink, cleaning her face with a washcloth.

I figured I needed to say something to redeem myself. “I think the stuff from Pure smells pretty good. You always wear that lotion.” A memory of her mother massaging hand cream into Rachel’s weak and trembling fingers at the hospital came to mind. That scent would linger in the room for hours afterward.

“You told me the name of it once. Something with rice or maybe wheat?” I knew damn well what the actual name was but no way would I let her know that.

Her head snapped up and her reflection met mine. “You remember what it’s called?”

“Pretty sure anyone would remember that it’s named after some kind of food.” I shrugged. “But it smells like flowers.”

A pretty rose hue stretched across her cheeks. “It’s rice flower.”

“That’s it,” I said, avoiding her gaze. I slipped behind her to place the new bar of soap on the tray in the shower. I tried not to rub against her, but damn, I so wanted to.

“I’ll get you some oatmeal soap,” she said. “It’ll make your skin nice and so . . .”

I turned just as she was taking a step back from the vanity. Our bodies aligned and we were practically on top of each other, in the same position as the previous night.

“So . . . soft,” she mumbled, finishing her sentence.

Our eyes met in the mirror, and for a split second I saw her pupils flash hot with desire. My hip bumped again hers on its own volition, pinning her against the vanity.

“Kai,” she whispered, as a tremble rushed through her. My lips came dangerously close to the skin on the back of her neck as I watched her reflection in the vanity.

I took a whiff of her scent, and then closed my eyes to revel in it. When my lids reopened, her breaths were labored, her chest moving up and down from the effort. Her robe had parted even farther from the exertion. In a subtle move, she pressed her bottom against my front, but there was nothing reserved about my hard-on growing steadily against her back.

“I probably shouldn’t be late for work,” I whispered against her ear. I wanted so badly to reach around and grab hold of her breasts, pinch her nipples, and make her come from my touch again.

Her lips parted in the mirror almost like she could read my thoughts. “I . . . yeah . . . I have to . . . shower.”

“Better get in there, then.” I dragged my nose along her hairline to her other ear as she whimpered. “Have a good one.”





Chapter Twelve


Kai





Fuck, this was going to be a long-ass day. After I walked out of Rachel’s bathroom, it took several long minutes—including the car ride over—to get my breathing and raging hard-on under control.

What in the hell had I done that for? Call me overconfident, but it sure as hell seemed like she was feeling it, too. That inexplicable draw between us. The same one that had already existed, even in the friend zone.

We had always sought each other out—being comfortable enough to hang, swap stories, share secrets, without the expectation of anything romantic or sexual.