“Shower first.”
I sighed again. “Fine.”
Jonah stared at me expectantly until I stomped into the bathroom ahead of him. I stripped quickly, letting my clothes fall to the floor with little care or finesse. Jonah watched in silence.
“You going to get undressed too, or do only I need to shower?” I asked him, my voice dry. I couldn’t be too displeased with his request; echoes of blood, sweat, and sand still clung to my skin.
Normally after fight night, when the storm of adrenaline and thrill of violence faded from my system, I’d crash hard. It was one of the few times I could sleep with little trouble, so I rarely bothered showering until the morning after. If that habit grossed my Rabbit out, though, I guess I’d have to change it.
Jonah started to strip, his cheeks flushed and signature scowl firmly in place. I turned away from him to start the water. When it was warm enough, I stepped under the spray, followed closely by a very quiet Jonah. I reached for the soap, pausing when Jonah’s hand shot out to block me.
“I want to do it,” he told me.
“This again? I know you can do it yourself, Jonah, but it’s okay to let me—”
“No.” Jonah cut me off. “I mean… I want to do it… for you.”
“You want to wash me?”
His cheeks darkened as he nodded.
I felt my lips tug into a smile. More than the hot water cascading over our bodies, I was warmed by the understanding that Jonah had wanted me to shower with him, not because he thought I was dirty, but because he wanted to take care of me.
“Okay, Rabbit.”
He couldn’t meet my eyes as he reached for the soap, lathering it up in his hands before he brought it to my chest, washing away so much more than the sweat and dirt. He was gentle, particularly over areas that were scraped up or split open from the night’s events. He didn’t need to be gentle. Jonah wasn’t capable of hurting me. Any sensations delivered by Jonah’s hands were welcomed and wanted. Even pain would feel like a reward from those slender fingers.
When he’d washed my front, his hands urged me to turn around, and as much as I wanted to tease him, I resisted. My rabbit could be skittish at best. I didn’t want to scare him off when he was initiating affection.
He gave my back the same level of care. His touch was soft, affectionate, intimate, but not sexual. He’d avoided washing my dick too closely, even though it was already desperate to show him just how appreciative it was.
When he was done with the soap, he reached for the shampoo, lathering it up in my hair and combing his fingers through to detangle the many knots from riding without a helmet.
I’d never had this before. I’d never given it to anyone either, except for Jonah, but I’d never given him anything with the hope of getting it back. I understood now why he was so cautious of care. Touch was foreign to him, and this type of touch was foreign to me too. It would take time for our minds to process it, to understand what it was, what it meant, what to do with it.
Jonah urged my head to tilt back under the water, washing away the foam. I was thankful for the heated stream that ran over my face, even as it stung at the cuts, because I wasn’t sure that everything trickling down my cheeks was water anymore.
His hands left me, and I remained where I was, secretly hoping they would find me again, and opening my eyes only when they didn’t. I attempted to turn around. Jonah stopped me.
“Don’t look for a second.” He shoved my shoulder to turn me back around.
“Why can’t I look?”
“Because. You just can’t.”
“What are you doing, Rabbit?”
“I’m… washing.”
“Washingwhat?”
“None of your business,” he snapped, and the defensiveness told me enough.
“You should let me do it.”
“No!”
“I’ll use my tongue.” The sharp inhale behind me brought another smile to my lips. I dared to push him a little further. “Let me taste you, baby.”
