With a flick of my wrist, the recessed lights above the walk-in shower cast a warm glow into the dim bathroom.
Turning, I reach for Tori. “Want me to wash your hair?” I run my hand over her damp locks, barely keeping back a shiver when I think of how it looks draped over her body.
Another vulnerable smile tilts her lips, but the look she gives me from beneath her lashes quickens my pulse. “Would you? Wash my hair?”
“Of course,” I say, a prickle of awareness dawning on me that we’re not just un-pausing our relationship tonight. We’re barreling forward at full speed.
But this feels right.
With her eyes locked on mine, that shy smile fades until all I see is want.
She wants me.
And goddamn, I want her.
Everything slows down as she tugs on the thin fabric wrapped around her.
The pink robe slips down her shoulders. Over her full, pert breasts. Across the curves of her hips.
Until it’s resting at her bare feet.
Her wild, dark hair marks a damp path along her olive skin. In another lifetime, she could’ve perched herself on a rock, sung a siren’s song, and men would’ve gladly dashed themselves upon the craggy surface to be near her.
She shifts, and her tresses carve out a map of generous expanses I need to explore before I fucking die of hunger.
“Let me take care of you tonight, baby,” I whisper, brushing my palms over her bare shoulders.
She hesitates. It’s brief, but then she nods, reaching for me.
I love that this girl always goes for it. That although she has moments of shyness, she always takes a chance. Best yet? She doesn’t play games.
The last six years have taught me I hate goddamn games.
Tori’s a lot of things. Young. Beautiful. Feisty. Passionate. But never fickle.
It’s time I met her courage straight on.
When I pull her closer and cover her lips with mine, it’s with the knowledge that she and I are overdue.
And I’m looking forward to getting caught up.
Tori
Every part of me feels flushed and hot, like I’ve run a race and I’m out of breath but exhilarated from the effort. Maybe it was that stupid spider scaring me out of my wits a little while ago. Or how tender Ethan’s been with me tonight, coming to my rescue and listening to what happened to me as a child. Not laughing at me. Only wanting to comfort me.
Or maybe it’s knowing we’re about to do this for real.
Even though I’ve been with other guys, even though I’ve carelessly shared things about myself with men who didn’t deserve them, I know Ethan does, and being here with him right now feels important. It feels like a first. Like I’m handing him the parts of myself I’ve protected as I’ve waited for him to come into my life.
He leans into the shower and twists knobs until a rhythmic pulsing of water hits the tiles and steam begins to rise.
A quick pulse of expectation fires in my veins when he returns to me, finding my lips with his, and I groan into his mouth when his tongue strokes against mine.
When I pull back, I paint his mouth with my finger, wanting to memorize the feel of his skin and hue of his full lips. “I hadn’t planned on you this summer.”
He bites my finger, and I yelp and laugh.
“You know what they say. The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”
