But wow. Wowowowow.
Cooper turns, dropping his clothes on top of the sink.
It takes everything in me not to groan.
“Twist the knob to the left twice for hot water,” I say, jamming my eyes closed.
I start to exit, my back to Cooper, but I stop. Turn around, and close the door. The darkness might be how he hides, but I can hide with him. Stay with him. Pretend that the world doesn’t exist, and inside these four walls there’s only us.
He sits on the toilet, folding in on himself. Elbows digging into his knees.
I start the water, letting the rush from the spout tune out his heavy breathing. From a container next to the bath, I spoon in a few tablespoons of lavender epsom salt to help him relax. I dip a finger in the tub once full.
“It’s ready.”
He stands, silent. Climbs in and sits down. He’s still in his boxers. I mentioned that he forgot to take them off, but he shook his head left and right. Is it bad I would have been okay if he did take them off?
The tub is too small for his frame. Knees bent, the tops stick out of the water. His head falls back against the tile where he’s leaning back.
Whatever halted me from leaving, comes over me again. I don’t question it. I don’t know what it is, but I let it happen. “Let me.” I take the washcloth from his hand. Squeeze soap onto it.
Cooper sits up. On my knees, leaning over the tub, I wash his back and chest, careful of the bruise from his game. His breathing shudders under my touch. When my fingers dip into the curve of his muscles, they tighten.
I wash his hair. Using my fingers as a comb to work the shampoo and conditioner into the strands. He’s going to smell like me, but I don’t think that’s a problem. I don’t mind having him in that way.
He’s quiet the entire time. Eyes closing occasionally, grip tight on the tub edge.
Finishing up, I start to stand, but Cooper tugs on my arm, and I fall into the tub. Water splashes over the edge, soaking me and the bathmat.
His hand still wrapped around my wrist, he tugs again. I fall forward onto him and into a kiss.
Cooper drops his hold on my wrist. Relocating his hands to the back of my head. Gripping it possessively. Fingers weaving into my curls, my clip broken and lost in the tub somewhere.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He pulls back.
“It’s okay,” I say against his lips before pressing my mouth back to his.
“I’m not kissing you because—” Cooper pulls away, but I lean into him, not wanting to lose this moment or connection. A desperate version of me claws her way to the surface. I need him. I want him.
“I know. I’m not either.”
We kiss again, I don’t know who initiates it. Mouths gliding over each other, his tongue slipping past my parted lips. The kiss is messy, unyielding, a desperation that makes me think I’m his breath of air.
The water around us goes cold, but I barely register it. All I can sense is him.
I brace my hands on his shoulders. The sound that vibrates through him when my hands move over the tense muscle pulses through me, an invitation to keep touching him. I move a hand up into the hair at his nape and tug. Our kiss deepening.
The doorknob turns, and I’m grateful I locked it. Elliot’s voice floats through the crack.
“Sutton, you in there? I’m home.”
I pull back from Cooper. “Yeah, taking a bath.”
“Want a glass of wine? Or your book? I saw it on your bed.”
“Oh, um. No, that’s okay!”
“Okay.” There’s a pause. “Can you ask Cooper not to leave his shoes in the middle of the living room?”
