I snuck up behind Riley with the hose and then aimed right at him and pulled the trigger.
“Fuck!” he shouted before turning around.
He got low and prepared to tackle me. I turned around and started running away from him while keeping the water turned in his direction.
I was giggling, and he was laughing.
He caught me, tackling me to the ground. I was laughing, trying to push him off as he took the hose from me and turned it in my direction.
“Okay, okay!” I shouted, letting him know I surrendered.
He laughed some more and then helped me up. Our role in the grass and dirt had turned us muddy.
“You look like you could use a bath little lady,” he said in a fake western drawl.
“You look like someone let you out with the hogs,” I responded.
“I’m going to finish up these last two sections, and then I am going to shower. Would you care to join me?” he asked.
I thought about it for a moment. I had once told him I was okay with blurring the lines. While I drew my line in the mud, I would have some fun blurring it, until it was just barely visible.
Something in my look must have given that away as his smile turned wicked and he rushed back to the fence to work as fast as he could.
We ended up showering in my trailer. If his father came home, it would be less awkward that way. My bathroom had an open shower with a glass wall. The spare bathroom had a bathtub.
We opted for the shower. The most intimidating part was stripping naked in front of Riley for the first time.
His eyes hungrily watched my every move. When there was nothing left to remove, he whistled.
“I showed you mine. Now show me yours,” I said, like a little kid exchanging snacks at lunch.
“With pleasure,” he said, removing the shorts and the boxers at the same time.
I had a general idea of what he was working with, from having it pressed up against my back. Seeing naked Riley was an entirely new experience, and he was perfect. It was as if someone brought Michelangelo back from the dead to carve one last masterpiece.
Riley was that beautiful work of art.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked me.
I nodded.
Then in a true Emma and Riley fashion, I had to poke fun.
“If you were a piece of art, I’d label you ‘I’m a grower, not a shower.’”
His eyes flared at my comment, and he growled.
He picked me up, and I squealed as he pulled me into the shower with him.
The awkward tension had been broken, thank god. I wasn’t good at this stuff. I didn’t have the same confidence that Riley had.
He picked up my shampoo bottle and squeezed some of it into my hair. I reached my hands up to lather it, but he swatted away my hands, massaging it into my head. I relaxed as his hands worked my scalp.
He allowed me to rinse my hair, and then he washed my body, slowly. Very slowly. If his goal was to drive me wild, then it was working. If he kept this up, he would get his way tonight, right here in this shower.
His look was questioning,Keep going or pump the breaks?
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. He took that for permission and placed his lips on my neck. His body was pressed up against mine in the small shower, and I loved it. I worked the soap over him, showing him the same attention he showed me.
