“More than okay,” I mutter. “Turn around. Let me help you wash your hair.”
He turns, and I work the shampoo through his hair, my nails scratching his scalp. He groans, leaning back into me.
“That feels incredible.”
“Just wait,” I whisper, pressing myself against his back.
“Jules”—his voice is strained—“we should talk about this.”
“We have,” I say, and he turns to face me.
He cups my face, water streaming over both of us. “You haven’t changed your mind?”
“No.” I’m honest. “I want you here. I want to explore this. And I know we have forty-one days to figure it out.”
“Forty days until Halloween,” he adds. “When we make our real decision.”
“The clock is ticking.” I grab my body wash and a loofah. “Now, are you going to help me get clean or just stand there, looking pretty?”
He takes the scrubber and brushes it over my body. “Definitely helping.”
Nick is everywhere, and he doesn’t miss an inch. I shiver when he touches my hip bones, and then I carefully trace my ribs with his strong hands. The lavender scent of my body wash mixes with the steam, and I realize waiting to have all of him will be the longest, sweetest torture of my life. No way he’ll give me everything I want right now. This is a game for both of us.
“For the record,” he says against my ear, his voice mixing with the sound of water hitting tiles, “I’m creating my own list with you.”
I laugh as his hands find a particularly sensitive spot. “Really?”
“Yes.” He presses my back against the cool tiles.
His mouth captures mine as the water cascades over his back, and I forget everything except the feel of him against me. His other fingers thrust into my hair, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss.
“Nick,” I whisper when he moves to my neck, carefully avoiding the hickey, but he licks around it.
“Tell me to stop,” he says against my skin.
“I can’t.”
His hands explore everywhere, and he learns what makes me gasp, what makes me grip his shoulders tighter. When his fingers find exactly where I need them, he slides two inside, and my knees nearly buckle. It feels so good.
A moan escapes me as he continues to work me. My legs tremble with anticipation as he brings me to the edge.
“I’ve got you,” he mutters, his other arm solid around my waist.
“This is not how I imagined it,” I manage.
“Want me to stop?” His fingers slow their perfect rhythm.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
He grins against my neck, picking up the pace until I’m shaking, nearly biting his shoulder to keep from screaming. The orgasm rushes through me, and I clench against his fingers.
“Mmm. How was it?”
“Better than I imagined,” I whisper.
When I finally come back to reality, he’s holding me up, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Another one off your list,” he says.
